r 


SHARON  FREE  LIBRARY, 

SHARON,  N.  H. 


RULES  AND  REGULATIONS. 

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brary  shall  be  taken  from  the  rooms  with 
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Any  person  entitled  to  Library  privileges,  who 
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loan  of  such  book,  shall  be  fined  one  dollar. 

No  person  shall  loan  any  book  belonging  to  the 
Library  to  anyone  outside  of  his  own  household, 
under  penalty  of  forfeiture  of  library  card. 

Books  must  not  be  kept  out  more  than  three 
weeks,  under  penalty  of  two  cents  per  day  for 
the  additional  time ;  and  if  not  returned  at  the 
end  of  five  weeks,  the  person  holding  them  shall 
pay  all  expenses  incurred  in  sending  for  the  same. 

Borrowers  owing  a  fine  shall  forfeit  all  privi 
leges  of  the  Library  until  such  fine  is  paid. 

All  injury  to  books,  beyond  reasonable  wear, 
and  all  losses  shall  be  made  good  to  the  satis 
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Accession  No- 
Class No ... 

Gift  of  ... 


MOTHERS    TO    MEN 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

MEW  YORK    •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN   &   CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON   •    BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN 


BY 


ZONA   GALE 

AUTHOR   OF   "  FRIENDSHIP   VILLAGE,"    "  FRIENDSHIP   VILLAGE 

LOVE    STORIES,"    "THE   LOVES   OF  PELLEAS 

AND    ETARRE,"    ETC. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1911 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY  THE  BUTTERICK  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  THE  RIDGEWAY 

COMPANY,  THE  CROWELL  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  AND  THE  STANDARD 

FASHION  COMPANY. 

COPYRIGHT,  1911, 
BY  THE  M  ACM  ILL  AN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.      Published  September,  1911. 


Ncttoooli 

J.  8.  Gushing  Co.  —  Berwick  <fe  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


MOTHERS    TO    MEN 


MOTHERS    TO    MEN 

"DADDY!" 

The  dark  was  so  thick  with  hurrying  rain  that 
the  child's  voice  was  drowned.  So  he  splashed 
forward  a  few  steps  in  the  mud  and  puddles  of 
the  highway  and  plucked  at  the  coat  of  the  man 
tramping  before.  The  man  took  a  hand  from 
a  pocket  and  stooped  somewhat  to  listen,  still 
plodding  ahead. 

"Daddy  !  It's  the  hole  near  my  biggest  toe. 
My  biggest  toe  went  right  through  that  hole 
an'  it  chokes  my  toe  awful." 

The  man  suddenly  squatted  in  the  mud,  pre 
senting  a  broad,  scarcely  distinguishable  back. 

"Climb  up,"  he  commanded. 

The  boy  wavered.  His  body  ached  with 
weariness,  his  feet  were  sore  and  cold,  something 
in  his  head  was  numb.  But  in  a  moment  he 
ran  on,  two  steps  or  three,  past  the  man. 

"Nope,"  he  said,  "I'm  seeing  if  I  could  walk 
all  the  way.  I  could  —  yet.  I  just  told  you 
'bout  my  toe,  daddy,  'cause  I  had  to  talk  about 
it." 


2  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

The  man  said  nothing,  but  he  rose  and  groped 
for  the  child's  arm  and  got  it  about  the  arm 
pit,  and,  now  and  then  as  they  walked,  he  pulled 
the  shoulder  awkwardly  upward,  trying  to 
help. 

After  a  time  of  silence  the  rain  subsided  a 
little,  so  that  the  child's  voice  was  less  like  a 
drowned  butterfly. 

"Daddy,"  he  said,  "what's  velvet  ?" 

"I  dunno,  sonny.  Some  kind  of  black  cloth, 
I  guess.  Why  ?" 

"It  came  in  my  head,"  the  child  explained. 
"I  was  tryin'  to  think  of  nice  things.  Velvet 
sounds  like  a  king's  clothes  --  but  it  sounds 
like  a  coffin  too.  I  didn't  know  if  it's  a  nice 
thing." 

This,  the  man  understood  swiftly,  was  because 
her  coffin  had  been  black  velvet  —  the  coffin 
which  he  had  had  no  money  to  buy  for  her, 
for  his  wife  and  the  boy's  mother,  the  coffin 
which  had  been  bought  with  the  poor  fund  of 
a  church  which  he  had  never  entered.  "What 
other  nice  thing  you  been  thinkin'  of  ?"  he 
asked  abruptly. 

"Circus.  An'  angels.  An'  ice-cream.  An' 
a  barrel  o'  marbles.  An'  bein'  warm  an'  clean 
stockin's  an'  rocked.  .  .  ." 

"My  God  !  "   said  the  man. 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  3 

The  child  looked  up  expectantly. 

"Did  he  say  anything  back  ?"  he  inquired 
eagerly. 

"Not  a  word,"  said  the  man  in  his  throat. 

"Lemme  try,"  said  the  child.  "God  —  oh, 
God  —  God  dear!"  he  called  into  the  night. 

From  the  top  of  the  hill  on  the  edge  of  the 
Pump  pasture  which  in  that  minute  they  had 
reached,  they  suddenly  saw,  cheery  and  yellow 
and  alive,  the  lamps  of  Friendship  Village, 
shining  in  the  valley ;  and  away  at  one  side, 
less  in  serene  contemplation  than  in  deliberate 
withdrawal,  shone  the  lights  of  a  house  set  alone 
on  its  hill. 

"Oh,  daddy,  daddy --look  at  the  lights!" 
the  child  cried.  "God  didn't  say  nothin'  with 
words.  Maybe  he  talks  with  lights  instead  of 
'em." 

The  man  quickened  his  steps  until,  to  keep 
pace  with  him,  the  little  boy  broke  into  uneven 
running. 

"Is  those  lights  where  we're  goin',  daddy?" 
he  asked. 

"That's  where,"  said  the  man.  He  put  his 
hand  in  his  pocket  and  felt  for  the  fifteen  cents 
that  lay  there,  wrapped  in  paper.  The  fancied 
odour  and  warmth  of  something  to  drink  caught 
at  him  until  he  could  hardly  bear  the  longing. 


4  MOTHERS   TO  MEN' 

But  before  he  could  get  to  the  drink  he  must 
do  something  else.  The  man  had  been  fighting 
away  the  thought  of  what  he  meant  to  do. 
But  when  they  entered  the  village  and  were 
actually  upon  its  main  street,  lonely  in  the  rainy, 
eight  o'clock  summer  dusk,  what  he  meant  to 
do  had  to  be  faced.  So  he  began  looking  this 
way  and  that  for  a  place  to  leave  the  child. 
There  was  a  wagon  shop.  Old  wagons  stood 
under  the  open  shed,  their  thills  and  tongues 
hanging,  not  expectant  of  journeys  like  those 
of  new  wagons,  but  idle,  like  the  worn  arms  of 
beaten  men.  Some  men,  he  thought,  would 
leave  the  boy  there,  to  sleep  under  a  seat  and 
be  found  in  the  morning;  but  he  was  no  such 
father  as  that,  he  reflected  complacently.  He 
meant  to  leave  the  boy  in  a  home,  give  him 
a  fair  start.  There  was  a  little  house  with  a 
broken  picket  fence  —  someway  she  wouldn't 
have  liked  him  to  be  there ;  she  always  liked 
things  nice.  He  had  never  been  able  to  give 
the  boy  much  that  was  nice,  but  now,  he  said 
to  himself,  he  would  take  nothing  second  rate. 
There  was  a  grocery  with  a  light  above  stairs 
where  very  likely  the  family  lived,  and  there, 
too,  was  a  dry  stairway  where  the  child  could 
sit  and  wait  until  somebody  came  —  no,  not 
there  either.  .  .  .  "The  best  ain't  none  too 
good  for  the  little  fellow,"  thought  the  man. 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  S 

"Dad-ee  I  "    cried  the  child  suddenly. 

He  had  run  a  few  steps  on  and  stood  with  his 
nose  against  the  misty  pane  of  Abagail  Arnold's 
Home  Bakery.  Covered  with  pink  mosquito- 
netting  were  a  plate  of  sugar  rolls,  a  fruit  cake, 
a  platter  of  cream  puffs,  and  a  tall,  covered  jar 
of  shelled  nuts. 

"Hustle  up  —  you!"  said  the  man  roughly, 
and  took  him  by  the  arm  again. 

"I  was  comin',"  said  the  little  boy. 

Why  not  leave  the  child  at  the  bakery  ?  No 
—  a  house.  It  must  be  a  house,  with  a  porch 
and  a  front  stair  and  big  upstairs  rooms  and 
a  look  of  money-in-the-bank.  He  was  giving 
care  to  the  selection.  It  was  as  if  he  were  exer 
cising  some  natural  paternal  office,  to  be  scru 
pulously  discharged.  Music  issued  from  the 
wooden  saloon  building  with  the  false  two-story 
front  and  the  coloured  windows  ;  from  a  protest 
ing  piano  a  dance  tune  was  being  furiously 
forced,  and,  as  the  door  swung  open,  the  tap 
and  thud  of  feet,  the  swell  of  voices  and 
laughter,  the  odour  of  the  spirits  caught  at  the 
cold  and  weary  man.  "Hurry  along  —  hurry 
along  !"  he  bade  the  boy  roughly.  That  was 
where  he  would  come  back  afterward,  but  first 
he  must  find  the  right  place  for  the  boy. 

Vaguely  he  was  seeking  for  that  section  of 


6  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

the  village  which  it  would  call  "the  residence 
part,"  with  that  ugly  and  naked  appropriation 
of  the  term  which  excludes  all  the  humbler 
homes  from  residence-hood  at  all.  But  when 
he  had  turned  aside  from  the  main  street  he 
came  upon  the  First  Church,  with  lights  stream 
ing  from  the  ground-glass  windows  of  the  prayer- 
meeting  room,  and  he  stood  still,  staring  up  at 
it. 

She  had  cared  a  good  deal  about  that  sort  of 
thing.  Churches  did  good  --  it  was  a  church 
that  had  buried  her  when  he  could  not.  Why 
not  there  ?  Why  not  leave  the  child  there  ? 

He  turned  aside  and  mounted  the  three  wooden 
steps  and  sat  down,  drawing  the  boy  beside  him. 
Grateful  for  a  chance  to  rest,  the  child  jturned 
sidewise  and  dropped  his  head  heavily  on  his 
father's  arm.  There  was  light  enough  for  the 
father  to  see  the  thick,  wet  hair  on  the  babyish 
forehead. 

"I  did  walked  all  the  way,  didn't  I  ?"  the  child 
said  triumphantly. 

"You  bet  you  did,"  said  his  father  absently. 

Since  the  boy's  mother  had  died  only  three 
months  had  passed,  but  in  that  time  had  been 
crowded  for  the  child  a  lifetime  of  physical 
misery.  Before  that  time,  too,  there  had  been 
hunger  and  cold  and  the  torture  of  the  continual 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  7 

quarreling  between  that  mother,  sickly,  half- 
fed,  irritable,  and  this  father,  out  of  work  and 
drunken.  Then  the  mother  had  died,  and  the 
man  had  started  out  with  the  boy,  seeking  new 
work  where  they  would  not  know  his  old  vice. 
And  in  these  three  months,  for  the  boy's  sake, 
that  old  vice  had  been  kept  bound.  For  the 
boy's  sake  he  had  been  sober  and,  if  the  chance 
had  come,  he  would  have  been  industrious. 
But,  save  for  odd  jobs,  the  chance  never  came ; 
there  seemed  to  be  a  kind  of  ineffectualness 
in  the  way  he  asked  for  work  which  forbade 
him  a  trial.  Then  one  day,  after  almost  three 
months  of  the  struggle,  he  had  waked  to  the 
old  craving,  to  the  need,  the  instant  need,  for 
liquor.  He  had  faced  the  situation  honestly. 
He  knew,  or  thought  he  knew,  his  power  of 
endurance.  He  knew  that  in  a  day  or  two  he 
would  be  worsted,  and  that  there  would  follow 
a  period  of  which,  afterward,  he  would  remem 
ber  nothing.  Meanwhile,  what  of  the  boy  ? 
He  had  a  fondness  for  the  boy,  and  there  re 
mained  to  the  man  some  shreds  of  decency  and 
even  of  tradition.  He  would  not  turn  him  over 
to  the  "authorities."  He  would  not  cast  him 
adrift  in  the  city.  He  resolved  to  carry  him  to 
the  country,  to  some  near  little  town  where, 
dimly  it  seemed  to  him,  the  people  would  be 


8  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

more  likely  to  take  him  in.  "They  have  more 
time  —  an'  more  room  —  an'  more  to  eat," 
he  sought  to  explain  it  to  himself.  So  he  had 
walked,  and  the  child  had  walked,  from  the 
City  to  Friendship  Village.  He  must  find  a 
place  to  leave  him :  why  not  leave  him  here 
on  the  church  steps,  "outside  the  meetin'  ?" 

"Don't  you  go  to  sleep,  kiddie,"  he  said,  and 
shook  him  lightly. 

"I  was  jus'  restin'  my  eye-flaps.  Eye-things. 
What  are  they,  daddy  ? " 

"Eye-lids." 

"Yes.  Them.  They're  tired,  too,"  said  the 
child,  and  smiled  —  the  sleepy  smile  which  gave 
his  face  a  baby  winsomeness.  Then  he  snuggled 
in  the  curve  of  arm,  like  a  drowsy,  nosing  puppy. 

The  father  sat  looking  down  on  him,  and  in 
his  breast  something  pulled.  In  these  three 
months  he  had  first  become  really  acquainted 
with  the  boy,  had  first  performed  for  him  little 
personal  offices  —  sewed  on  a  button  or  two, 
bought  him  shoes,  bound  up  a  hurt  finger.  In 
this  time,  too,  he  had  first  talked  with  him  alone, 
tried  to  answer  his  questions.  "Where  is  my 
mamma,  an'  will  she  rock  somebody  else  ?" 
"Are  you  going  to  be  my  daddy  till  you  die, 
an'  then  who'll  be?"  "What  is  the  biggest 
thing  everybody  knows  ?  Can  I  know  it  too  ?" 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  9 

.  .  .  Also,  in  these  three  months,  at  night  he 
had  gone  to  sleep,  sometimes  in  a  bed,  oftener 
in  a  barn,  now  and  again  under  the  stars,  with 
the  child  breathing  within  his  reach,  and  had 
waked  to  keep  him  covered  with  his  own  coat- 
Now  he  was  going  to  end  all  this. 

"It  ain't  fair  to  the  kid  not  to.  It  ain't  fair 
to  cart  him  around  like  this,"  he  said  over  and 
over,  defending  himself  before  some  dim  dis 
senter. 

The  boy  suddenly  swung  back  from  his  father's 
arm  and  looked  up  in  his  face.  "Will  —  will 
there  be  any  supper  till  morning  ?"  he  asked. 

You  might  have  thought  that  the  man  did 
not  hear,  he  sat  so  still  looking  down  the  wet 
road-ruts  shining  under  the  infrequent  lamps. 
Hunger  and  cold,  darkness  and  wet  and  ill-luck 
—  why  should  he  not  keep  the  boy  from  these  ? 
It  was  not  deserting  his  child ;  it  was  giving 
him  into  better  hands.  It  did  not  occur  to  him 
that  the  village  might  not  accept  the  charge. 
Anything  would  be  better  than  what  he  himself 
had  to  give.  Hunger  and  cold  and  dark 
ness.  .  .  . 

"You  stay  still  here  a  minute,  sonny,"  said 
the  man. 

"You  goin'  'way  ?"  the  child  demanded. 

"A    minute.     You    stay    still     here  —  right 


io  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

where  you  are,"  said  the  man,  and  went  into 
the  darkness. 

The  little  boy  sat  still.  He  was  wide  awake 
now  that  he  was  alone ;  the  walls  of  the  dark 
seemed  suddenly  to  recede,  and  instead  of  merely 
the  church  steps  there  was  the  whole  black, 
listening  world  to  take  account  of.  He  sat 
alert,  trying  to  warm  each  hand  on  the  cold 
wrist  of  its  fellow.  Where  had  his  father  gone  ? 
To  find  them  a  place  to  stay  ?  Suppose  he  came 
back  and  said  that  he  had  found  them  a  home ; 
and  they  should  go  to  it ;  and  it  would  have  a  coal 
stove  and  a  bedstead,  and  a  pantry  with  cookies 
and  brown  sugar  in  the  jars.  And  a  lady  would 
come  and  cook  molasses  candy  for  him.  .  .  . 

All  this  time  something  was  hurting  him  in 
tolerably.  It  was  the  foot,  and  the  biggest  toe, 
and  the  hole  that  was  "choking"  him.  He 
fumbled  at  his  shoe  laces,  but  they  were  wet 
and  the  shoes  were  wet  and  sodden,  and  he  gave 
it  up.  Where  had  his  father  gone  ?  How  big 
the  world  seemed  when  he  was  gone,  and  how 
different  the  night  was.  And  when  the  lady 
had  the  molasses  candy  cooked,  like  in  a  story, 
she  would  cool  it  at  the  window  and  they  would 
cut  it  in  squares.  .  .  . 

As  suddenly  as  he  had  gone,  his  father  re 
appeared  from  the  darkness. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  n 

"Here,"  he  said  roughly,  and  thrust  in  the 
child's  hands  a  paper  bag.  And  when  he  had 
opened  it  eagerly  there  were  sugar  rolls  and 
cream  puffs  and  a  piece  of  fruit  cake  and  some 
shelled  nuts.  Fifteen  cents'  worth  of  food, 
badly  enough  selected,  in  all  conscience,  but  - 
fifteen  cents'  worth.  The  fifteen  cents  which 
the  man  had  been  carrying  in  his  pocket, 
wrapped  in  paper. 

"Now  set  there,"  said  his  father,  "an'  eat 
'em  up.  An'  listen,  son.  Set  there  till  folks 
come  out  from  in  there.  Set  there  till  they  come 
out.  An'  here's  somethin'  I'm  puttin'  in  your 
coat  pocket  —  see  ?  It's  a  paper.  Don't  you 
look  at  it.  But  when  the  folks  come  out  from 
in  there  —  an'  ask  you  anything  —  you  show 
'em  that.  Remember.  Show  'em  that." 

In  the  prayer-meeting  room  the  reed  organ 
sent  out  some  trembling,  throaty  chords,  and 
the  little  group  in  there  sang  an  old  melody. 
It  was  strange  to  the  man,  as  he  listened  — 

"  Break  thou  the  bread  of  life 
To  me,  to  me  — ' 

but,  "That's  it,"  he  thought,  "that's  it.  Break 
it  to  him  —  I  can't.  All  I  can  give  him  is  stuff 
in  a  paper  bag,  an'  not  always  that.  Now  you 
break  it  to  him  — " 


12  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

"  Dad-ee  I "  cried  the  child.     "  You  ! " 

Startled,  the  man  looked  down  at  him.  It 
was  almost  like  a  counter  charge.  But  the  child 
was  merely  holding  out  to  him  half  his  store. 
The  man  shook  his  head  and  went  down  the 
steps  to  the  sidewalk  and  turned  to  look  back 
at  the  child  munching  happily  from  the  paper 
sack.  "Break  it  to  him --break  it  to  him - 
God  !"  the  father  muttered,  as  he  might  have 
used  a  charm. 

Again  the  child  looked  out  expectantly. 

"Did  he  say  anything  back?"  he  asked 
eagerly. 

"Not  a  word  —  not  a  word,"  said  the  man 
again.  This  time  he  laughed,  nervously  and 
foolishly.  "But  mebbe  he  will,"  he  mumbled 
superstitiously.  "  I  dunno.  Now,  you  set  there. 
An'  then  you  give  'em  the  paper  —  an'  go  with 
anybody  out  o'  the  church  that  asks  you.  Dad 
may  not  get  back  for  —  quite  a  while.  .  .  ." 

The  man  went.  The  child,  deep  in  the  de 
light  of  a  cream  puff,  wondered  and  looked  after 
him  troublously,  and  was  vaguely  comforted 
by  the  murmur  of  voices  beyond  the  doors. 

"Why,  God  didn't  answer  back  because  he 
was  to  the  church  meeting,"  the  child  thought, 
when  he  heard  the  people  moving  about  within. 


"INSIDE  the  church  that  night,"  Calliope 
Marsh  is  wont  to  tell  it,  "  the  Friendship  Married 
Ladies  Cemetery  Improvement  Sodality  was 
having  one  of  our  special  meetings,  with  hot 
chocolate  and  ice  lemonade  and  two  kinds  of 
wafers.  There  wasn't  a  very  big  attendance, 
account  of  the  rain,  and  there  was  so  much  re 
freshments  ready  that  us  ladies  was  urgin'  the 
men  to  have  all  they  wanted. 

'"Drink  both  kinds,  Timothy,'  Mis  Toplady 
says  to  her  husband,  persuadin' ;  '  it'll  have  to  be 
throwed  away  if  somebody  don't  drink  it  up.' 

"'Lord,  Amandy, '  says  Timothy,  testy,  'I 
do  hate  to  be  sicked  on  to  my  food  like  that.  It 
takes  away  my  appetite,  same  as  poison  would.' 

"'They  always  do  it,'  says  Jimmy  Sturgis, 
morose.  'My  wife'll  say  to  me,  "  Jimmy,  eat  up 
them  cold  peas.  They'll  spoil  if  you  don't,"  and, 
"  Jimmy,  can't  you  make  'way  with  them  cold 
pancakes  ?"  Till  I  wish't  I  could  starve.' 

"'Well,  if  you  hadn't  et  up  things,'  says  Mis' 
Sturgis,  mild,  'we'd  of  been  scrappin'  in  the 
poor-house  by  now.  I  dunno  but  I'd  ruther 
scrap  where  I  am.' 

13 


14  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"'Sure!'  says  Postmaster  Silas  Sykes,  that 
always  pours  oil  on  troubled  waters  except  when 
the  trouble  is  his  own ;  and  then  he  churns 
them. 

"'I  dunno  what  ailed  me  in  business  meeting 
to-night,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb-that-was-Mame 
Bliss.  *  I  declare,  I  was  full  as  nervous  as  a  witch. 
I  couldn't  keep  my  feet  still  anywheres. ' 

"'The  fidgets,'  comprehends  Mis'  Uppers, 
sympathetic.  '  I  get  'em  in  my  feet  'long  toward 
night  sometimes.  Turn  an'  twist  an'  shift  —  I 
know  the  feeling.  Whenever  my  feet  begin  that, 
I  always  give  right  up  an'  take  off  my  shoes  an' 
get  into  my  rubbers. ' 

"  '  Well,  I  wish't  I  had  some  rubbers  now,'  says 
Mis'  Mayor  Uppers .  '  I  wore  my  best  shoes  out  to 
tea  an'  come  right  from  tea  here,  like  a  maniac. 
An'  now  look  at  me,  in  my  Three  Dollar-and-a- 
half  kids  an'  the  streets  runnin'  rivers.' 

"  'You  take  my  rubbers,'  Mis'  Timothy  Top- 
lady  offered.  'I've  set  with  'em  on  all  evening 
because  I  always  get  'em  mixed  up  at  Sodality, 
an'  I  declare  the  water'll  feel  good  to  my  poor 
feet.', 

" '  No,  no,  don't  you  trouble,'  says  Mis' 
Uppers.  'I'll  just  slip  my  shoes  off  an'  track 
that  one  block  in  my  stocking  feet.  Then  I'll 
put  'em  in  good,  hot  water  an'  go  to  bed.  I 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  15 

wouldn't  of  come  out  to-night  at  all  if  it  hadn't 
of  been  for  the  professor.' 

"'For  goodness'  sakes,'  I  says,  'don't  call 
him  that.  You  know  how  he  hates  it. ' 

"  '  But  I  do  like  to  say  it,'  Mis'  Uppers  in 
sists,  wistful.  'He's  the  only  professor  I  ever 
knew.' 

" '  Me  either,'  I  says  —  and  I  knew  how  she 
felt. 

"Just  the  same,  we  was  getting  to  like  Mr. 
Insley  too  much  to  call  him  that  if  he  didn't 
want  it,  or  even  'doctor'  that  was  more  common, 
though  over  to  Indian  Mound  College,  half  way 
between  us  and  the  City,  he  is  one  or  both,  and 
I  dunno  but  his  name  tapers  off  with  capital 
letters,  same  as  some. 

'"I  just  came  over  here  to  work,'  he  told  us 
when  we  first  see  him.  '  I  don't  profess  anything. 
And  "doctor"  means  teacher,  you  know,  and  I'm 
just  learning  things.  Must  you  have  a  formal 
title  for  me  ?  Won't  Mr.  do  ? ' 

"Most  of  the  College  called  him  just  'Insley,' 
friendly  and  approving,  and  dating  back  to  his 
foot-ball  days,  and  except  when  we  was  speaking 
to  him,  we  commonly  got  to  calling  him  that  too. 
A  couple  of  months  before  he'd  come  over  from 
the  College  with  a  letter  of  introduction  from 
one  of  the  faculty  to  Postmaster  Silas  Sykes, 


16  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

that  is  an  alderman  and  our  professional  leading 
citizen.  The  letter  from  the  College  said  that 
we  could  use  Mr.  Insley  in  any  local  civic  work 
we  happened  to  be  doing. 

'"Civic  work  ? '  Silas  says  to  him,  thoughtful. 
'You  mean  shuttin'  up  saloons  an'  like  that  ?' 

"'Not  necessarily,'  he  told  him.  'Just  work 
with  folks,  you  know.' 

"'Well-a,  settin'  out  bushes  ?'  Silas  asks. 

"'Whatever  you're  most  interested  in,  Mr. 
Sykes,'  says  he.  'Isn't  there  some  organization 
that's  doing  things  here  ?' 

"Silas  wasn't  interested  in  so  very  much  of 
anything  except  Silas.  But  the  word  'organiza 
tion'  helped  him  out. 

"'There's  the  Friendship  Married  Ladies  Cem 
etery  Improvement  Sodality,'  says  he.  'That 
must  be  the  very  kind  of  a  thing  you  mean.' 

"Insley  laughed  a  little,  but  he  let  Mis'  Sykes, 
that  loves  new  things  and  new  people,  bring  him 
to  our  next  evening  meeting  in  the  church  par 
lors,  and  he'd  been  back  several  times,  not  say 
ing  much,  but  just  getting  acquainted.  And 
that  rainy  night,  when  the  men  met  with  us  to 
talk  over  some  money  raising  for  Sodality,  we'd 
asked  him  to  come  over  too.  We  all  liked  him. 
He  had  a  kind  of  a  used-to-things  way,  and  you 
felt  like  you'd  always  known  him  or,  for  the  time 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  17 

you  hadn't,  that  you'd  both  missed  something 
out;  and  he  had  a  nice  look  too,  a  look  that 
seemed  to  be  saying  'good  morning'  and  to 
be  beginning  a  fine,  new  day — the  best  day 
yet. 

"  He'd  set  there  kind  of  broodin'  the  most  of 
that  evening,  drinking  whatever  anybody 
brought  him,  but  not  putting  his  mind  to  it  so 
very  much  ;  but  it  was  a  bright  broodin',  an'  one 
that  made  you  think  of  something  that's  going  to 
open  and  not  just  of  something  that's  shut 
up.  You  can  brood  both  ways,  but  the  effect 
is  as  different  as  a  bud  from  a  core. 

"'Speakin'  of  money  raisin'  for  Sodality,' 
says  Silas  Sykes,  kind  of  pretend  hearty  and 
pretend  casual,  like  he  does,  'why  don't  Sodality 
make  some  money  off'n  the  Fourth  of  July  ? 
Everybody  else  is.' 

("  Sodality  always  speaks  of  itself  and  of  the 
Cemetery  real  intimate,  without  the  the,  an' 
everybody's  got  to  doing  it.) 

"Us  ladies  all  set  still  and  kept  still.  The 
Fourth  of  July,  that  was  less  than  a  week  off,  was 
a  sore  point  with  us,  being  we'd  wanted  a  cele 
bration  that  would  be  a  celebration,  and  not 
merely  a  money-raiser  for  the  town. 

"'Oh,  I  say  canvass,  house  to  house,'  says 
Timothy.  '  Folks  would  give  you  a  dime  to  get 


1 8  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

you  off'n  the  front  porch  that  wouldn't  come 
out  to  a  dime  entertainment,  never.' 

"'Why  not  ask  them  that's  got  Dead  in  their 
own  families,  to  pay  out  for  'em,  an'  leave  them 
alone  that's  got  livin'  mouths  to  feed?'  says 
Threat  Hubbelthwait,  querulous.  Threat  ain't 
no  relations  but  his  wife,  and  he  claims  to  have 
no  Dead  of  his  own.  I  always  say  they  must 
be  either  living  or  dead,  or  else  where's  Threat 
come  in  ?  But  he  won't  admit  it. 

"'  What  you  raisin'  money  for  anyhow  ?'  asks 
Eppleby  Holcomb,  quiet.  Eppleby  always 
keeps  still  a  long  time,  and  then  lets  out  some 
thing  vital. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  Sodality  didn't  have  no 
real  work  on  hand,  Cemetery  lookin'  real  neat 
and  tasty  for  Cemetery,  and  no  immediate  dead 
coming  on  as  far  as  we  could  know;  but  we 
didn't  have  much  of  anything  in  the  treasury, 
either.  And  when  we  didn't  have  any  work  on 
hand,  we  was  in  the  habit  of  raising  money,  and 
when  we'd  got  some  money  earnt,  we  was  in  the 
habit  of  devising  some  nice  way  to  spend  it.  And 
so  we  kept  Sodality  real  alive. 

:'Well,  there  may  not  be  any  active  dead 
just  now,'  Mis'  Sykes  explains  it,  'but  they  are 
sure  to  die  and  need  us.  We  had  two  country 
funerals  to  pay  for  last  year.  Or  I  might  say, 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  19 

one  an'  a  half,  one  corpse  contributing  half  enough 
for  his  own  support  in  Cemetery/ 

"With  that  Insley  spoke  up,  kind  of  firm  and 
nice,  with  muscles  in  his  tone,  like  he  does  : 

"'What's  the  matter  with  doing  something 
with  these  folks  before  they  die  ?'  he  asks. 

"I  guess  we  all  looked  kind  of  blank  —  like 
when  you  get  asked  why  Columbus  discovered 
America  and  all  you  know  how  to  answer  is  just 
the  date  he  done  so  on. 

"'Well-a,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  'do  what  ?' 

'"Mustn't  there  be  something  to  do  with  them, 
living,  if  there's  everything  to  be  done  for  them, 
dead  ?'  Insley  asks. 

"'Well-a,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  'I  don't  know  that 
I  understand  just  how  you  mean  that.  Perhaps 
the  Mission  Band  — ' 

"'No,' says  Insley.     'You.     Us.' 

"I  never  knew  a  man  to  say  so  little  and  yet 
to  get  so  much  said. 

"'Well-a,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  'of  course  Sodality 
was  formed  with  the  idee  of  caring  for  Cemetery. 
You  see  that  lets  in  the  Dead  only.' 

"'Gosh,'  says  Eppleby  Holcomb,  'how  ex 
clusive.'  But  I  don't  know  as  anybody  heard  him 
but  me. 

"'I  know,'  says  Insley,  slow.  'Well,  at  any 
rate,  perhaps  there  are  things  that  all  of  us  Liv- 


20  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

ing  might  do  together  —  for  the  sake,  say,  of 
earning  some  money  for  the  Dead.  There'd  be 
no  objection  to  that,  would  there  ?' 

"'Oh,  no,'  says  Mis'  Sykes.  'I'm  sure  nobody 
could  take  exception  to  that.  Of  course  you 
always  have  to  earn  money  out  of  the  living.' 

"Insley  looked  at  us  all  kind  of  shy  --  at  one 
and  another  and  another  of  us,  like  he  thought 
he  might  find  some  different  answer  in  some 
body's  eyes.  I  smiled  at  him,  and  so  did  Mis' 
Toplady,  and  so  did  Eppleby ;  and  Mis'  Eleanor 
Emmons,  the  widow-lady,  lately  moved  in,  she 
nodded.  But  the  rest  set  there  like  their  faces 
was  on  wrong  side  out  and  didn't  show  no  true 
pattern. 

'"I  mean,'  he  says,  not  quite  knowing  how  to 
make  us  understand  what  he  was  driving  at,  'I 
mean,  let's  get  to  know  these  folks  while  they 
are  alive.  Aren't  we  all  more  interested  in  folks, 
than  we  are  in  their  graves  ? ' 

"Folks,'  Timothy  Toplady  says  over,  medita 
tive,  like  he'd  heard  of  members,  customers, 
clients,  murderers  and  the  like,  but  never  of 
folks. 

:cl  mean,'  Insley  says  again,  'oh,  any  one  of 
a  dozen  things.  For  instance,  do  something  jolly 
that'll  give  your  young  people  something  to  do 
evenings  —  get  them  to  help  earn  the  money  for 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  21 

Cemetery,  if  you  want  to,'  he  adds,  laughing  a 
little. 

"'There's  goin'  to  be  a  Vigilence  Committee 
to  see  after  the  young  folks  of  Friendship  Village, 
nights,'  says  Silas  Sykes,  grim. 

'"You  might  have  town  parties,  have  the 
parties  in  schools  and  in  the  town  hall,'  Insley 
goes  on,  'and  talk  over  the  Cemetery  that  be 
longs  to  you  all,  and  talk  over  the  other  things 
besides  the  Cemetery  that  belong  to  you  all. 
Maybe  I  could  help,'  he  adds,  '  though  I  own 
up  to  you  now  I'm  really  more  fond  of  folks 
-speaking  by  and  large  —  than  I  am  of  tomb 
stones.' 

"He  said  a  little  more  to  us,  about  how  folks 
was  doing  in  the  world  outside  the  village,  and 
he  was  so  humorous  about  it  that  they  never 
knew  how  something  inside  him  was  hopping 
with  hope,  like  I  betted  it  was,  with  his  young, 
divine  enthusiasm.  And  when  he'd  got  done  he 
waited,  all  grave  and  eager,  for  somebody  to 
peep  up.  And  it  was,  as  it  would  be,  Silas  Sykes 
who  spoke  first. 

'"It's  all  right,  it's  all  right,'  says  he,  'so  long 
as  Sodality  don't  go  meddling  in  the  village  affairs 
-  petitionin'  the  council  and  protestin'  an'  so  on. 
That  gets  any  community  all  upset.' 

"'That's  so,'  says  Timothy,  nodding.     'Meet- 


22  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

in',  singin'  songs,  servin'  lemonade  an*  plantin' 
things  in  the  ground  is  all  right  enough.  It  helps 
on  the  fellow  feelin'  amazin'.  But  pitchin'  in  for 
reforms  and  things  — '  Timothy  shook  his  head. 

"'As  to  reforms,'  says  Insley,  'give  me  the 
fellowship,  and  the  reforms  will  take  care  of  them 
selves.' 

"'Things  is  quite  handy  about  takin'  their 
course,  though,'  says  Silas,  'so  be  we  don't 
yank  open  the  cocoons  an'  buds  an'  others.' 

"'Well,'  says  Mis'  Uppers,  'I  can't  do  much 
more,  Professor.  I'm  drove  to  death,  as  it  is.  I 
don't  even  get  time  to  do  my  own  improvin' 
round  the  place.'  Mis'  Uppers  always  makes 
that  her  final  argument.  'Sew  for  the  poor?' 
I've  heard  her  say.  'Why,  I  can't  even  get  my 
own  fall  sewing  done.' 

"'Me,  too,'  and,  'Me,  either,'  went  round  the 
circle.  And,  'I  can't  do  a  great  deal  myself,' 
says  Mis'  Sykes,  'not  till  after  my  niece  goes 
away. ' 

"  I  thought,  '  I  shouldn't  think  you  could  tend 
to  much  of  anything  else,  not  with  Miss  Beryl 
Sessions  in  the  house.'  That  was  the  Sykes's 
niece,  till  then  unknown  to  them,  that  we'd  all 
of  us  heard  nothing  but,  since  long  before  she 
come.  But  of  course  I  kept  still,  part  because  I 
was  expecting  an  unknown  niece  of  my  own 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  23 

in  a  week  or  so,  and  your  unknown  relatives  is 
quite  likely  to  be  glass  houses. 

"'Another  thing,'  says  Mis'  Hubbelthwait, 
1  don't  let's  us  hold  any  doin's  in  this  church, 
kicking  up  the  new  cork  that  the  Ladies'  Aid  has 
just  put  down  on  the  floor.  It'll  all  be  tracked 
up  in  nojiime,  letting  in  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry.' 

"  '  Don't  let's  get  the  church  mixed  up  in  any 
thing  outside,  for  pity's  sakes,'  says  Silas.  'The 
trustees'll  object  to  our  meeting  here,  if  we  quit 
working  for  a  dignified  object  and  go  to  making 
things  mutual,  promiscuous.  Churches  has  got 
to  be  church-like.' 

"'Well,  Silas,'  says  Eppleby  Holcomb,  that 
hadn't  been  saying  anything,  '  I  donno  as  some 
of  us  could  bring  ourselves  to  think  of  Christ 
as  real  Christ-like,  if  he  come  back  the  way  he 
use'  to  be.' 

"Insley  sat  looking  round  on  them  all,  still 
with  his  way  of  saying  good  morning  on  a  good 
day.  I  wondered  if  he  wasn't  wishing  that 
they'd  hang  on  that  way  to  something  worth 
hanging  to.  For  I've  always  thought,  and  I 
think  now,  that  they's  a-plenty  of  stick-to-it- 
iveness  in  the  world ;  but  the  trouble  is,  it's 
stuck  to  the  wrong  thing. 

"The  talk  broke  up  after  that,  like  somebody 
had  said  something  in  bad  taste;  and  we  con- 


24  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

versed  around  in  groups,  and  done  our  best  to 
make  'way  with  the  refreshments.  And  Insley 
set  talking  to  Mis'  Eleanor  Emmons,  the  new 
widow,  lately  moved  in. 

"About  Mis'  Emmons  the  social  judgment  of 
Friendship  Village  was  for  the  present  hanging 
loose.  This  was  partly  because  we  didn't  under 
stand  her  name. 

"My  land,  was  her  husband  a  felon  or  a 
thief  or  what  that  she  don't  use  his  name  ? '  every 
body  asked  everybody.  'What's  she  stick  her 
own  name  in  front  of  his  last  name  like  that 
for  ?  Sneaked  out  of  usin'  his  Christian  name  as 
soon  as  his  back  was  turned,  7  call  it,'  said 
some.  'My  land,  I'd  use  my  dead  husband's 
forename  if  it  was  Nebuchadnezzar.  My  opin 
ion,  we'd  best  go  slow  till  she  explains  herself.' 

"But  I  guess  Insley  had  more  confidence. 

'"You'll  help,  I  know?'  I  heard  him  say  to 
Mis'  Emmons. 

'"My  friend,'  she  says  back,  'whatever  I  can 
do  I'll  do.  It's  a  big  job  you're  talking  about, 
you  know.' 

"  'It's  the  big  job,'  says  Insley,  quiet. 

"Pretty  soon  Mis'  Toplady  got  up  on  her  feet, 
drawing  her  shawl  up  her  back. 

"'Well,'  she  says,  'whatever  you  decide, 
count  on  me  —  I'll  always  do  for  chinkin'  in. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  25 

I've  got  to  get  home  now  and  set  my  bread 
or  it  won't  be  up  till  day  after  to-morrow. 
Ready,  Timothy  ?  Good  night  all.' 

"She  went  towards  the  door,  Timothy  fol 
lowing.  But  before  they  got  to  it,  it  opened,  and 
somebody  come  in,  at  the  sight  of  who  Mis' Top- 
lady  stopped  short  and  the  talk  of  the  rest  of  us 
fell  away.  No  stranger,  much,  comes  to  Friend 
ship  Village  without  our  knowing  it,  and  to  have 
a  stranger  walk  unbeknownst  into  the  very 
lecture-room  of  the  First  Church  was  a  thing  we 
never  heard  of,  without  he  was  a  book  agent  or  a 
travelling  man. 

"Here,  though,  was  a  stranger  —  and  such 
a  stranger.  She  was  so  unexpected  and  so  daz 
zling  that  it  shot  through  my  head  she  was  like 
a  star,  taking  refuge  from  all  the  roughness  and 
the  rain  outside  —  a  star,  so  it  come  in  my  head, 
using  up  its  leisure  on  a  cloudy  night  with 
peepin'  in  here  and  there  to  give  out  brightness 
anyway.  The  rough,  dark  cheviot  that  the 
girl  wore  was  sort  of  like  a  piece  of  storm-cloud 
clinging  about  that  brightness  —  a  brightness 
of  wind-rosy  face  and  blowy  hair,  all  uncovered. 
She  stood  on  the  threshold,  holding  her  wet  um 
brella  at  arm's  length  out  in  the  entry. 

:'I  beg  your  pardon.     Are  you  ready,  Aunt 
Eleanor  ?'  she  asked. 


26  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"Mis'  Eleanor  Emmons  turned  and  looked  at 
her. 

"'Robin  !'  she  says.  'Why,  you  must  be 
wet  through.' 

"'I'm  pretty  wet,'  says  the  girl,  serene,  'I'm 
so  messy  I  won't  come  in.  I'll  just  stop  out  here 
on  the  steps.  Don't  hurry.' 

"'Wait  a  minute,'  Mis'  Emmons  says.  'Stay 
where  you  are  then,  please,  Robin,  and  meet 
these  people.' 

"The  girl  threw  the  door  wide,  and  she 
stepped  back  into  the  vestibule,  where  her  um 
brella  had  been  trailing  little  puddles ;  and  she 
stood  there  against  the  big,  black  background  of 
the  night  and  the  village,  while  Mis'  Emmons 
presented  her. 

"'This  is  my  niece,  Miss  Sidney,'  she  told  us. 
'  She  has  just  come  to  me  to-day  --  for  as  long  as 
I  can  keep  her.  Will  you  all  come  to  see  her  ?' 

"It  wasn't  much  the  way  Mis'  Sykes  had 
done,  singing  praises  of  Miss  Beryl  Sessions  for 
weeks  on  end  before  she'd  got  there ;  nor  the 
way  I  was  doing,  wondering  secret  about  my 
unknown  niece,  and  what  she'd  be  like.  Mis' 
Emmons  introduced  her  niece  like  she'd  always 
been  one  of  us.  She  said  our  names  over,  and 
we  went  towards  her;  and  Miss  Sidney  leaned 
a  little  inside  the  frame  of  the  doorway  and  put 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  27 

out  her  hand  to  us  all,  a  hand  that  didn't  have 
any  glove  on  and  that  in  spite  of  the  rain,  was 


warm. 

U  i 


I'm  so  sorry,'  she  says,  'I'm  afraid  I'm  dis 
gracing  Aunt  Eleanor.  But  I  couldn't  help  it. 
I  love  to  walk  in  the  rain.' 

'"That's  what  rain  is  for,'  Insley  says  to  her; 
and  I  see  the  two  change  smiles  before  Mis' 
Hubbelthwait's  'Well,  I  do  hope  you've  got 
some  good  high  rubbers  on  your  feet'  made  the 
girl  grave  again  —  a  sweet  grave,  not  a  stiff 
grave.  You  can  be  grave  both  ways,  and  they're 
as  different  from  each  other  as  soup  from  hot 
water. 

'"I  have,  thank  you,'  she  says,  'big  storm 
boots.  Did  you  know,'  she  adds,  'that  somebody 
else  is  waiting  out  here  ?  Somebody's  little  bit 
of  a  beau  ?  And  I'm  afraid  he's  gone  to  sleep.' 

"We  looked  at  one  another,  wondering.  Who 
was  waiting  for  any  of  us  ?  'Not  me,'  one  after 
another  says,  positive.  'We've  all  raced  home 
alone  from  this  church  since  we  was  born,'  Mis' 
Uppers  adds,  true  enough. 

"We  was  curious,  with  that  curiosity  that 
it's  kind  of  fun  to  have,  and  we  all  crowded  for 
ward  into  the  entry.  And  a  little  to  one  side 
of  the  shining  lamp  path  was  setting  a  child  — 
a  little  boy,  with  a  paper  bag  in  his  arms. 


II 

"WHO  on  earth  was  he,  we  wondered  to  our 
selves,  and  we  all  jostled  forward,  trying  to 
see  down  to  him,  us  women  lifting  up  our  skirts 
from  the  entry  wet.  He  was  like  a  little  wad 
of  clothes,  bunched  up  on  the  top  step,  but  in 
side  them  the  little  fellow  was  all  curled  up, 
sleeping.  And  we  knew  he  hadn't  come  for 
any  of  us,  and  he  didn't  look  like  he  was  waiting 
for  anybody  in  particular. 

"Silas  fixed  up  an  explanation,  ready-done  :  — 

"'He  must  belong  down  on  the  flats,'  says 
Silas.  'The  idear  of  his  sleepin'  here.  I  said 
we'd  oughter  hev  a  gate  acrost  the  vestibule.' 

"'Roust  him  up  an'  start  him  home,'  says 
Timothy  Toplady,  adviceful. 

'"I  will,'  says  Silas,  that  always  thinks  it's 
his  share  to  do  any  unclaimed  managing ;  and 
he  brought  down  his  hand  towards  the  child's 
shoulder.  But  his  hand  didn't  get  that  far. 

"'Let  me  wake  him  up,'  says  Robin  Sidney. 

"She  laid  her  umbrella  in  the  wet  of  the  steps 
and,  Silas  being  surprised  into  giving  way,  she 
stooped  over  the  child.  She  woke  him  up 

28 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  29 

neither  by  speaking  to  him  nor  grasping  his 
arm,  but  she  just  slipped  her  hands  along  his 
cheeks  till  her  hands  met  under  his  chin,  and 
she  lifted  up  his  chin,  gentle. 

"'Wake  up  and  look  at  me,'  she  says. 

"The  child  opened  his  eyes,  with  no  starting 
or  bewildering,  and  looked  straight  up  into  her 
face.  There  was  light  enough  for  us  all  to  see 
that  he  smiled  bright,  like  one  that's  real  glad 
some  waiting  is  done.  And  she  spoke  to  him, 
not  making  a  point  of  it  and  bringing  it  out  like 
she'd  aimed  it  at  him,  but  just  matter-of-fact 
gentle  and  commonplace  tender. 

"'Whose  little  boy  are  you  ?'  she  ask'  him. 

"'I'm  goin'  with  whoever  wants  me  to  go 
with  'em,'  says  the  child. 

"'But  who  are  you  —  where  do  you  live?' 
she  says  to  him.  'You  live,  don't  you  —  in  this 
town  ?' 

"The  child  shook  his  head  positive. 

"  '  I  lived  far,'  he  told  her, '  in  that  other  place. 
I  come  up  here  with  my  daddy.  He  says  he 
might  not  come  back  to-night.' 

"Robin  Sidney  knelt  right  down  before  him 
on  the  wet  steps. 

"'Truly,'  she  said,  'haven't  you  any  place  to 
go  to-night  ?' 

"'Oh,   yes,'  says   the  child,  'he  says  I  must 


30  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

go  with  whoever  wants  me  to  go  with  'em.  Do 
—  do  you  ? ' 

"At  that  Miss  Sidney  looked  up  at  us,  swift, 
and  down  again.  The  wind  had  took  hold  of 
a  strand  of  her  hair  and  blew  it  across  her  eyes, 
and  she  was  pushing  it  away  as  she  got  up. 
And  by  then  Insley  was  standing  before  her, 
back  of  the  little  boy,  that  he  suddenly  stooped 
down  and  picked  up  in  his  arms. 

"'Let's  get  inside,  shall  we?'  he  says,  com 
manding.  'Let's  all  go  back  in  and  see  about 
him.' 

"We  went  back  into  the  church,  even  Silas 
taking  orders,  though  of  course  that  was  part 
curiosity ;  and  Insley  sat  down  with  the  child 
on  his  knee,  and  held  out  the  child's  feet  in  his 
hand. 

'"He's  wet  as  a  rat,'  he  says.  'Look  at  his 
shoes.' 

'"Well-a,  make  him  tell  his  name,  why  don't 
you  ?'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  sharp.  '/  think  we'd 
ought  to  find  out  who  he  is.  What's  your  name, 
Boy  ?'  she  adds,  brisk. 

"Insley  dropped  the  boy's  feet  and  took  ahold 
of  one  of  his  hands.  'Yes,'  he  says,  hasty,  'we 
must  try  to  do  that.'  But  he  looked  right 
straight  over  Mis'  Sykes's  shoulder  to  where, 
beyond  the  others,  Robin  Sidney  was  standing. 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  31 

'  He  was  your  friend  first,'  he  said  to  her.     l  You 
found  him.' 

"She  come  and  knelt  down  beside  the  child 
where,  on  Insley's  knee,  he  sat  staring  round, 
all  wondering  and  questioning,  to  the  rest  of 
us.  But  she  seemed  to  forget  all  about  the 
rest  of  us,  and  I  loved  the  way  she  was  with 
that  little  strange  boy.  She  kind  of  put  her 
hands  on  him,  wiping  the  raindrops  off  his 
face,  unbuttoning  his  wet  coat,  doing  a  little 
something  to  his  collar;  and  every  touch  was 
a  kind  of  a  little  stroke  that  some  women's 
hands  give  almost  without  their  knowing  it. 
I  loved  to  watch  her,  because  I'm  always  as 
stiff  as  a  board  with  a  child  —  unless  I'm  alone 
with  them.  Then  I  ain't. 

'"My  name's  Robin,'  she  says  to  the  little 
fellow.  'What's  yours,  dear?' 

"'Christopher,'  he  says  right  off.  'First, 
Christopher.  An'  then  John.  An'  then  Bart- 
lett.  Have  you  only  got  one  name  ?'  he  asked 
her. 

"'Yes,  I've  got  two,'  she  says.  'The  rest 
of  mine  is  Sidney.  Where  — ' 

"'Only  two?'  says  the  child.  'Why,  I've 
got  three.' 

"Only  two,'  she  answers.      'Where  did  your 
father  go  —  don't  you  know  that,  Christopher  ?' 


32  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"That  seemed  to  make  him  think  of  some 
thing,  and  he  looked  down  at  his  paper  bag. 

"'First  he  bringed  me  these,'  he  says,  and 
his  face  lighted  up  and  he  held  out  his  bag  to 
her.  'You  can  have  one  my  cream-puffs,'  he 
offers  her,  magnificent.  I  held  my  breath  for 
fear  she  wouldn't  take  it,  but  she  did.  'What 
fat  ones  !'  she  says  admiring,  and  held  it  in 
her  hand  while  she  asked  him  more.  It  was 
real  strange  how  we  stood  around,  us  older 
women  and  all,  waiting  for  her  to  see  what  she 
could  get  out  of  him.  But  there  wasn't  any 
use.  He  was  to  go  with  whoever  asked  him 
to  go  —  that  was  all  he  knew. 

"Silas  Sykes  snaps  his  watch.  'It's  gettin' 
late,'  he  gives  out,  with  a  backward  look  at 
nothing  in  particular.  'Hadn't  we  best  just 
leave  him  at  the  police  station  ?  Threat 
Hubbelthwait  and  me  go  right  past  there.' 

"Mis'  Toplady,  she  sweeps  round  on  him, 
pulling  her  shawl  over  her  shoulders  —  one  of 
them  gestures  of  some  women  that  makes  it 
seem  like  even  them  that  works  hard  and  don't 
get  out  much  of  anywhere  has  motions  left  in 
them  that  used  to  be  motioned  in  courts  and 
castles  and  like  that.  'Police  station  !  Silas 
Sykes,'  says  she,  queenly,  'you  put  me  in  mind 
of  a  stone  wall,  you're  that  sympathizin'.' 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  33 

"'Well,  we  can't  take  him,  Amandy,'  Tim 
othy  Toplady  reminds  her,  hurried.  'We  live 
too  far.  'Twouldn't  do  to  walk  him  'way  there.' 
Timothy  will  give,  but  he  wants  to  give  to  his 
own  selected  poor  that  he  knows  about ;  an' 
he  won't  never  allow  himself  no  luxuries  in 
givin'  here  an'  there,  when  something  just 
happens  to  come  up. 

'"Land,  he  may  of  come  from  where  there's 
disease  —  you  can't  tell,'  says  Mis'  Uppers. 
'I  think  we'd  ought  to  go  slow.' 

"'Yes,'  says  two-three  others,  'we'd  best  go 
slow.  Why,  his  father  may  be  looking  for  him.' 

"Mis'  Eleanor  Emmons  spoke  up  serene. 
:' While  we're  going  slow,'  she  says,  'I  think 
I'll  just  take  him  home  and  get  his  feet  dry. 
I  live  the  nearest.  Mr.  Sykes,  you  might  report 
him  at  the  police  station  as  you  go  by,  in  case 
someone  is  looking  for  him.  And  if  nobody 
inquires,  he  can  sleep  on  my  couch  beside  my 
grate  fire  to-night.  Can't  he,  Robin  ?' 

"'I'd  love  it,'  says  the  girl. 

"Excellent,'   says   Insley,    and  set  the  little 
boy  on  his  feet. 

"But  when  he  done  that,  the  child  suddenly 
swung  round  and  caught  Miss  Sidney's  arm 
and  looked  up  in  her  face ;  and  his  little  nose 
was  screwed  up  alarming. 


34  MOTHERS    TO  MEN 

"'What  is  it  —  what's  the  matter,  Chris 
topher  ?'  she  ask'  him.  And  the  rest  of  us  that 
had  begun  moving  to  go,  stopped  to  listen.  And 
in  that  little  stillness  Christopher  told  us  :  — 

"'Oh,'  he  says,  'it's  that  hole  near  my  big 
gest  toe.  My  biggest  toe  went  right  through 
that  hole.  And  it's  chokin'  me.' 

"Just  exactly  as  if  a  hand  had  kind  of  touched 
us  all,  a  nice  little  stir  went  round  among  us 
women.  And  with  that,  Insley,  who  had  been 
standing  there  so  big  and  strong  and  able  and 
willing,  and  waiting  for  a  chance  to  take  hold, 
he  just  simply  put  his  hands  on  his  knees  and 
stooped  over  and  made  his  back  right  for  the 
little  fellow  to  climb  up  on.  The  child  knew 
what  it  was  for,  soon  enough  —  we  see  some 
body  somewheres  must  of  been  doing  it  for  him 
before,  for  he  scrambled  right  up,  laughing,  and 
Miss  Sidney  helping  him.  And  a  kind  of  a 
little  ripple,  that  wan't  no  true  words,  run 
round  among  us  all.  Most  women  and  some 
men  is  strong  on  ripples  of  this  sort,  but  when 
it  comes  right  down  to  doing  something  in 
consequence,  we  ain't  so  handy. 

'"Leave  me  come  along  and  help  take  care 
of  him  a  little  while,'  I  says ;  and  I  thought  it 
was  because  I  was  ashamed  of  myself  and  try 
ing  to  make  up  for  not  offering  before.  But 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  35 

I  think  really  what  was  the  matter  with  me  was 
that  I  just  plain  wanted  to  go  along  with  that 
little  boy. 

"'I'm  your  automobile,'  says  Insley  to  the 
little  fellow,  and  he  laughed  out,  delighted, 
hanging  onto  his  paper  sack. 

'"If  you'll  give  me  the  big  umbrella,  Aunt 
Eleanor,'  says  Miss  Sidney  on  the  church  steps, 
Til  try  to  keep  the  rain  off  the  automobile 
and  the  passenger.' 

"The  rain  had  just  about  stopped  when  we 
four  started  down  Daphne  Street.  The  elms 
and  maples  along  the  sidewalk  was  dripping 
soft,  and  everybody's  gardens  was  laying  still, 
like  something  new  had  happened  to  them.  It 
smelled  good,  and  like  everything  outdoors 
was  going  to  start  all  over  again  and  be  some 
thing  else,  sweeter. 

"When  we  got  most  to  Mis'  Emmon's  gate, 
I  stopped  stock  still,  looking  at  something  shin 
ing  on  the  hill.  It  was  Proudfit  House,  lit 
up  from  top  to  bottom  —  the  big  house  on  the 
hill  that  had  stood  there,  blind  and  dark,  for 
months  on  end. 

"'Why,  some  of  the  Proudfits  must  of  come 
home,'  I  says  out  loud. 

"Mis'  Emmons  answered  up,  all  unexpected 
to  me,  for  I  never  knew  she  knew  the  Proudfits. 


36  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

'Mr.  Alex  Proudfit  is  coming  on  to-morrow,' 
she  says.  And  I  sort  of  resented  her  that  was 
so  near  a  stranger  in  the  village  hearing  this 
about  Alex  Proudfit  before  I  did,  that  had 
known  him  since  he  was  in  knickerbockers. 

"'Am  I  keeping  the  rain  off  you  two  people  ?' 
Miss  Sidney  asks  as,  at  the  corner,  we  all  turned 
our  backs  on  Proudfit  House. 

"'Nobody,'  Insley  says  —  and  his  voice  was 
always  as  smooth  and  round  as  wheels  running 
along  under  his  words,  'nobody  ever  kept  the 
rain  off  as  you  are  keeping  it  off,  Miss  Sidney.' 

"And,  'I  did  walked  all  that  way --in  that 
rain,'  says  Christopher,  sleepy,  in  his  automo 
bile's  collar. 


Ill 

"!F  it  was  anyways  damp  or  chilly,  Mis' 
Emmons  always  had  a  little  blaze  in  the  grate 
—  not  a  heat  blaze,  but  just  a  Come-here  blaze. 
And  going  into  her  little  what-she-called  living- 
room  at  night,  I  always  thought  was  like  push 
ing  open  some  door  of  the  dark  to  find  a  sort 
of  cubby-corner  hollowed  out  from  the  bigger 
dark  for  tending  the  homey  fire.  That  rainy 
night  we  went  in  from  the  street  almost  right 
onto  the  hearth.  And  it  was  as  pleasant  as 
taking  the  first  mouthful  of  something. 

"Insley,  with  Christopher  still  on  his  back, 
stood  on  the  rug  in  front  of  the  door  and  looked 
round  him. 

"'How  jolly  it  always  looks  here,  Mrs. 
Emmons,'  he  says.  'I  never  saw  such  a  hearty 
place.' 

"I  donno  whether  you've  ever  noticed  the 
difference  in  the  way  women  bustle  around  ? 
Most  nice  women  do  bustle  when  something 
comes  up  that  needs  it.  Some  does  it  light 
and  lifty,  like  fairies  going  around  on  missions ; 
and  some  does  it  kind  of  crackling  and  nervous, 
like  goblins  on  business.  Mis'  Emmons  was  the 

37 


3  8  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

first  kind,  and  it  was  real  contagious.  You 
caught  it  yourself  and  begun  pulling  chairs 
around  and  seeing  to  windows  and  sort  of  set 
tling  away  down  deep  into  the  minute.  She 
begun  doing  that  way  now,  seeing  to  the  fire 
and  the  lamp-shade  and  the  sofa,  and  wanting 
everybody  to  be  dry  and  comfortable,  instant. 

"'You  are  so  good-natured  to  like  my  room,' 
she  says.  (l  furnished  it  for  ten  cents  —  yes, 
not  much  more.  The  whole  effect  is  just  colour,' 
she  says.  'What  I  have  to  do  without  in 
quality  I  go  and  wheedle  out  of  the  spectrum. 
What  should  we  do  without  the  rainbow  ?  And 
what  in  the  world  am  I  going  to  put  on  that 
child  ? ' 

"Insley  let  Christopher  down  on  the  rug  by 
the  door,  and  there  he  stood,  dripping,  patient, 
holding  his  paper  bag,  and  not  looking  up  and 
around  him,  same  as  a  child  will  in  a  strange 
room,  but  just  looking  hard  at  the  nice,  red, 
warm  blaze.  Miss  Sidney  come  and  stooped 
over  him,  with  that  same  little  way  of  touching 
him,  like  loving. 

"'Let's  go  and  be  dry  now,'  she  says,  'and 
then  let's  see  what  we  can  find  in  the  pantry.' 

"The  little  fellow,  he  just  laughed  out,  soft 
and  delicious,  with  his  head  turned  away  and 
without  saying  anything. 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  39 

"'I  never  said  such  a  successful  thing,'  says 
Miss  Sidney,  and  led  him  upstairs  where  we 
could  hear  Mis'  Emmons  bustling  around 
cosey. 

"Mr.  Insley  and  I  sat  down  by  the  fire.  I 
remember  I  looked  over  towards  him  and  felt 
sort  of  nervous,  he  was  so  good  looking  and 
so  silent.  A  good-looking  talking  man  I  ain't 
afraid  of,  because  I  can  either  admire  or  de 
spise  him  immediate,  and  either  way  it  gives 
me  something  to  do  answering  back.  But  one 
that's  still,  it  takes  longer  to  make  out,  and  it 
don't  give  you  no  occupation  for  your  impres 
sions.  And  Insley,  besides  being  still,  was  so 
good  looking  that  it  surprised  me  every  new 
time  I  see  him.  I  always  wanted  to  say :  Have 
you  been  looking  like  that  all  the  time  since  I 
last  saw  you,  and  how  do  you  keep  it  up  ? 

"He  had  a  face  and  a  body  that  showed  a 
good  many  men  looking  out  of  'em  at  you,  and 
all  of  'em  was  men  you'd  like  to  of  known. 
There  was  scholars  that  understood  a  lot,  and 
gentlemen  that  acted  easy,  and  outdoor  men  that 
had  pioneered  through  hard  things  and  had  took 
their  joy  of  the  open.  All  of  them  had  worked 
hard  at  him  —  and  had  give  him  his  strength 
and  his  merriness  and  his  big,  broad  shoulders 
and  his  nice,  friendly  boyishness,  and  his  eyes 


40  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

that  could  see  considerably  more  than  was  set 
before  them.  By  his  own  care  he  had  knit  his 
body  close  to  life,  and  I  know  he  had  knit  his 
spirit  close  to  it,  too.  As  I  looked  over  at  him 
that  night,  my  being  nervous  sort  of  swelled  up 
into  a  lump  in  my  throat  and  I  wanted  to  say 
inside  me :  O  God,  ain't  it  nice,  ain't  it  nice 
that  you've  got  some  folks  like  him  ? 

"He  glanced  over  to  me,  kind  of  whimsical. 

"'Are  you  in  favour  of  folks  or  tombstones  ?' 
he  asks,  with  his  eyebrows  flickering  up. 

"'Me?'  I  says.  'Well,  I  don't  want  to  be 
clannish,  but  I  do  lean  a  good  deal  towards 
folks.' 

"'You  knew  what  I  meant  to-night?'  he 
says. 

"'Yes,'  I  answered,  'I  knew.' 

'"I  thought  you  did,'  he  says  grave. 

"Then  he  lapsed  into  keeping  still  again  and 
so  did  I,  me  through  not  quite  knowing  what  to 
say,  and  him  —  well,  I  wasn't  sure,  but  I 
thought  he  acted  a  good  deal  as  if  he  had  some 
thing  nice  to  think  about.  I've  seen  that  look 
on  people's  faces  sometimes,  and  it  always 
makes  me  feel  a  little  surer  that  I'm  a  human 
being.  I  wondered  if  it  was  his  new  work 
he  was  turning  over,  or  his  liking  the  child's 
being-  cared  for,  or  the  mere  nice  minute,  there 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  41 

by  the  grate  fire.  Then  a  door  upstairs  shut, 
and  somebody  come  down  and  into  the  room, 
and  when  he  got  up,  his  look  sort  of  centred  in 
that  new  minute. 

"It  was  Miss  Sidney  that  come  in,  and  she 
set  down  by  the  fire  like  something  pleased  her. 

"'Aunt  Eleanor  is  going  to  decorate  Chris 
topher  herself,'  she  says.  'She  believes  that  she 
alone  can  do  whatever  comes  up  in  this  life 
to  be  done,  and  usually  she's  right.' 

"Insley  stood  looking  at  her  for  a  minute 
before  he  set  down  again.  She  had  her  big 
black  cloak  off  by  then,  and  she  was  wearing 
a  dress-for-in-the-house  that  was  all  rosy.  She 
wasn't  anything  of  the  star  any  longer.  She 
was  something  more  than  a  star.  I  always 
think  one  of  the  nicest  commonplace  minutes 
in  a  woman's  everyday  is  when  she  comes  back 
from  somewheres  outside  the  house  where  she's 
been,  and  sets  down  by  the  fire,  or  by  a  window, 
or  just  plain  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  They 
always  talk  about  pigeons  'homing';  I  wish't 
they  kept  that  word  for  women.  It  seems  like 
it's  so  exactly  what  they  do  do. 

'"I  love  the  people,'  Miss  Sidney  went  on, 
'that  always  feel  that  way  —  that  if  something 
they're  interested  in  is  going  to  be  really  well 
done,  then  they  must  do  it  themselves.' 


42  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"Insley  always  knew  just  what  anybody 
meant  -  -  I'd  noticed  that  about  him.  His 
mind  never  left  what  you'd  said  floating  round, 
loose  ends  in  the  room,  without  your  knowing 
whether  it  was  going  to  be  caught  and  tied  ;  but 
he  just  nipped  right  onto  your  remark  and  tied 
it  in  the  right  place. 

" '  I  love  them,  too,'  he  says  now.  ' I  love  any 
body  who  can  really  feel  responsibility,  from 
a  collie  with  her  pups  up.  But  then  I'm  noth 
ing  to  go  by.  I  find  I'm  rather  strong  for  a 
good  many  people  that  can't  feel  it,  too  —  that 
are  just  folks,  going  along.' 

"I  suppose  he  expected  from  her  the  nice, 
ladylike  agreeing,  same  as  most  women  give 
to  this  sort  of  thing,  just  like  they'd  admit 
they're  fond  of  verbenas  or  thin  soles.  But 
instead  of  that,  she  caught  fire.  Her  look 
jumped  up  the  way  a  look  will  and  went  acrost 
to  his.  I  always  think  I'd  rather  have  folks 
say  'I  know'  to  me,  understanding,  than  to 
just  pour  me  out  information,  and  that  was 
what  she  said  to  him. 

"'I  know,'  she  says,  'on  the  train  to-day — • 
if  you  could  have  seen  them.  Such  dreadful- 
looking  people,  and  underneath  —  the  giving- 
up-ness.  I  believe  in  them,'  she  added  simple. 

"When   a   thing  you   believe  gets   spoke  by 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  43 

somebody  that  believes  it,  too,  it's  like  the  earth 
moved  round  a  little  faster,  and  I  donno  but 
it  does.  Insley  looked  for  a  minute  like  he 
thought  so. 

'"I  believe  in  them,'  he  says ;  'not  the  way  I 
used  to,  and  just  because  I  thought  they  must 
be,  somehow,  fundamentally  decent,  but  be 
cause  it's  true.' 

"'I  know  just  when  I  first  knew  that,'  Miss 
Sidney  says.  'It  come  to  me,  of  all  places,  in  a 
subway  train,  when  I  was  looking  at  a  row  of 
faces  across  the  car.  Nobody,  nobody  can  look 
interesting  in  that  row  along  the  side  of  a 
subway  car.  And  then  I  saw.  .  .  .' 

"She  thought  for  a  minute  and  shook  her 
head. 

"'I  can't  tell  you,'  she  says,  'it  sounds  so 
little  and  —  no  account.  It  was  a  little  thing, 
just  something  that  happened  to  a  homely 
woman  with  a  homely  man,  in  a  hat  like  a 
pirate's.  But  it  almost  —  let  me  in.  I  can 
do  it  ever  since  —  look  into  people,  into,  or 
through,  or  with  .  .  .'  she  tries  to  explain  it. 
Then  her  eyes  hurried  up  to  his  face,  like  she 
was  afraid  he  might  not  be  understanding.  He 
just  nodded,  without  looking  at  her,  but  she 
knew  that  he  knew  what  she  meant,  and  that 
he  meant  it,  too. 


44  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"...  I  thought  it  was  wonderful  to  hear 
them.  I  felt  like  an  old  mountain,  or  anything 
natural  and  real  ancient,  listening  to  the  Song 
of  Believing,  sung  by  two  that's  young  and  just 
beginning.  We  all  sing  it  sometime  in  our 
lives  —  or  Lord  grieve  for  them  that  never  do 
—  and  I  might  as  well  own  up  that  I  catch 
myself  humming  that  same  song  a  good  deal  of 
the  time,  to  keep  myself  a-going.  But  I  love 
to  hear  it  when  it's  just  begun. 

"They  was  still  talking  when  Mis'  Emmons 
come  downstairs  with  Christopher.  Land, 
land  but  the  little  chap  looked  dear,  dragging 
along,  holding  up  a  long-skirted  lounging  dress 
of  Mis'  Emmons's.  I  never  had  one  of  them 
lounging  dresses.  There's  a  lot  of  common 
things  that  it  never  seems  to  me  I  can  buy  for 
myself :  a  nice  dressing-gown,  a  block  of  black 
pins,  a  fancy-headed  hat  pin,  and  a  lemon- 
squeezer.  I  always  use  a  loose  print,  and  com 
mon  pins,  and  penny  black-headed  hat  pins, 
and  go  around  squeezing  my  lemons  by  hand. 
I  donno  why  it  is,  I'm  sure. 

"'Fm--rm--rm--a  little  boy  king!' 
Christopher  stutters,  all  excited  and  satisfied, 
while  Insley  was  a-packing  him  in  the  Morris 
chair. 

"'Rained  on!'   says  Mis'   Emmons,   in  that 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  45 

kind  of  dismay  that's  as  pure  feminine  as  if 
it  had  on  skirts.  'Water  isn't  a  circumstance  to 
what  that  dear  child  was.  He  was  saturated 
—  bless  him.  He  must  have  been  out  for  per 
fect  hours.' 

"Christopher,  thinking  back  into  the  rain, 
mebbe,  from  the  pleasantness  of  that  minute, 
smiled  and  took  a  long  breath. 

'"I  walked  from  that  other  place,'  he  explains, 
important. 

"Mis'  Emmons  knew  he  was  hungry,  and  she 
took  Miss  Sidney  and  Insley  off  to  the  kitchen 
to  find  something  to  eat,  and  left  me  with  the 
little  fellow,  me  spreading  out  his  clothes  in 
front  of  the  fire  to  dry.  He  set  real  still,  like 
being  dry  and  being  with  somebody  was  all 
he  wanted.  And  of  course  that  is  a  good  deal. 

"I  don't  always  quite  know  how  to  start 
talking  to  a  child.  I'm  always  crazy  to  talk 
with  them,  but  I'm  so  afraid  of  that  shy,  grave, 
criticizin'  look  they  have.  I  feel  right  off  like 
apologizing  for  the  silly  question  I've  just  asked 
them.  I  felt  that  way  now  when  Christopher 
looked  at  me,  real  dignified  and  wondering. 
'What  you  going  to  be  when  you  grow  up  to 
be  a  man  ?'  was  what  I  had  just  asked  him. 
And  yet  I  don't  know  what  better  question  I 
could  of  asked  him,  either. 


46  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"'I'm  goin'  to  have  a  cream-puff  store,  an' 
make  it  all  light  in  the  window,'  he  answers  ready. 

"'All  light  in  the  window  ?'  I  says  puzzled. 

"'And  I'm  going  to  keep  a  church,'  he  goes  on, 
'  and  I'm  going  to  make  nice,  black  velvet  for 
their  coffings.' 

"I  didn't  know  quite  what  to  make  of  that, 
not  being  able  to  think  back  very  far  into  his 
mind.  So  I  kept  still  a  few  minutes. 

"'What  was  you  doin'  in  the  church?'  he 
says  to  me,  all  at  once. 

"'I  don't  really  know.  Waiting  for  you  to 
come,  I  guess,  Christopher,'  I  says. 

liiWas  you  ?'  he  cried,  delighted.  'Pretty 
soon  I  came  !'  He  looked  in  the  fire,  sort  of 
troubled.  'Is  God  outdoors  nights  ?'  he  says. 

"  I  said  a  little  something. 

"'Well,'  he  says,  'I  thought  he  was  in  the 
house  by  the  bed  when  you  say  your  prayer. 
An'  I  thought  he  was  in  church.  But  I  don't 
think  he  stays  in  the  dark,  much.' 

"'Mebbe  you  don't,'  I  says,  'but  you  wait 
for  him  in  the  dark,  and  mebbe  all  of  a  sudden 
some  night  you  can  tell  that  something  is  there. 
And  just  you  wait  for  that  night  to  come.' 

'"That's  a  nice  game,'  says  Christopher, 
bright.  'What  game  is  that  ?' 

"'I  donno,'  I  says.     'Game  of  Life,  I  guess.' 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  47 

"He  liked  the  sound;  and  he  set  there  — 
little  waif,  full  of  no  supper,  saying  it  over  like 
a  chant : — 

'"Game  o'  life  —  game  o'  life  —  game  o' 
1-i-f-e— ' 

"Just  at  that  minute  I  was  turning  his  little 
pockets  wrong  side  out  to  dry  them,  and  in  one 
of  them  I  see  a  piece  of  paper,  all  crumpled  up 
and  wrinkled.  I  spread  it  out,  and  I  see  it  had 
writing  on.  And  I  held  it  up  to  the  light  and 
read  it,  read  it  through  twice. 

"'Christopher,'  I  says  then,  'where  did  you 
get  this  piece  of  paper  ?  It  was  in  your  pocket.' 

"He  looked  at  it,  blank,  and  then  he  remem 
bered. 

" ' My  daddy,'  he  says.  ' My  daddy  told  me  to 
give  it  to  folks.  I  forgot.' 

'"To  folks  ?'  I  says.     'To  what  folks  ?' 

'"To  whoever  ask'  me  anything,'  he  answers. 
'Is  it  a  letter  ?'  he  ask'. 

"'Yes,'  I  says,  thoughtful,  'it's  a  letter.' 

'"To  tell  me  what  to  do  ?'  he  ask'  me. 

"'Yes,'  I  says,  'but  more,  I  guess,  to  tell  us 
what  to  do.' 

"I  talked  with  him  a  little  longer,  so's  to  get 
his  mind  off  the  paper ;  and  then  I  told  him  to 
set  still  a  minute,  and  I  slipped  out  to  where  the 
rest  was. 


48  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

"The  pantry  had  a  close,  spicey,  foody  smell 
of  a  pantry  at  night,  when  every  tin  chest  and 
glass  jar  may  be  full  up  with  nice  things  to  eat 
that  you'd  forgot  about  —  cocoanut  and  citron 
and  cinnamon  bark.  In  grown-up  folks  one  of 
the  things  that  is  the  last  to  grow  up  is  the 
things  a  pantry  in  the  evening  promises.  You 
may  get  over  really  liking  raisins  and  sweet 
chocolate  ;  you  may  get  to  wanting  to  eat  in  the 
evening  things  that  you  didn't  use'  to  even  know 
the  names  of  and  don't  know  them  now,  and 
yet  it  never  gets  over  being  nice  and  eventive 
to  go  out  in  somebody's  pantry  at  night,  espe 
cially  a  pantry  that  ain't  your  own. 

"'Put  everything  on  a  tray,'  Mis'  Emmons 
was  directing  them,  'and  find  the  chafing-dish 
and  let's  make  it  in  there  by  Christopher.  Mr. 
Insley,  can  you  make  toast  ?  Don't  equivocate,' 
she  says;  'can  you  make  toast?  People  fib 
no  end  over  what  they  can  make.  I'm  always 
bragging  about  my  omelettes,  and  yet  one  out 
of  every  three  I  make  goes  flat,  and  I  know  it. 
And  yet  I  brag  on.  Beans,  buckwheat,  rice  — 
what  do  you  want  to  cream,  Robin  ?  Well, 
look  in  the  store-room.  There  may  be  some 
thing  there.  We  must  tell  Miss  Sidney  about 
Grandma  Sellers'  store-room,  Mr.  Insley,'  she 
says,  and  then  tells  it  herself,  laughing  like  a  girl, 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  49 

how  Grandma  Sellers,  down  at  the  other  end 
of  Daphne  Street,  has  got  a  store-room  she  keeps 
full  of  staples  and  won't  let  her  son's  wife  use  a 
thing  out.  '  I've  been  hungry,'  Grandma  Sellers 
says,  'and  I  ain't  ashamed  of  that.  But  if  you 
knew  how  good  it  feels  to  have  a  still-room 
stocked  full,  you  wouldn't  ask  me  to  disturb  a 
can  of  nothing.  I  want  them  all  there,  so  if  I 
should  want  them.'  'She's  like  me,'  Mis' 
Emmons  ends,  'I  always  want  to  keep  my  living- 
room  table  tidy,  to  have  a  place  in  case  I  should 
want  to  lay  anything  down.  And  if  I  put  any 
thing  on  it,  I  snatch  it  up,  so  as  to  have  a  place 
in  case  I  want  to  lay  anything  down.' 

"They  was  all  laughing  when  I  went  out  into 
the  kitchen,  and  I  went  up  to  Mis'  Emmons  with 
the  paper. 

'"Read  that,'  I  says. 

"  She  done  so,  out  loud  —  the  scrawlin',  down 
hill  message  : — • 

"'Keep  him  will  you,'  the  paper  said,  CI  don't 
chuck  him  to  get  rid  of  but  hes  only  got  me  since 
my  wifes  dead  and  the  drinks  got  me  again.  Ive 
stood  it  quite  awhile  but  its  got  me  again  so 
keep  him  and  oblidge.  will  send  money  to  him 
to  the  P  O  here  what  I  can  spare  I  aint  chuckin 
him  but  the  drinks  got  me  again. 

"  *  resp,  his  father. 


50  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"'PS  his  name  is  Christopher  Bartlett  he  is 
a  good  boy  his  throat  gets  sore  awful  easy.' 

"When  Mis'  Emmons  had  got  through  read 
ing,  I  remember  Miss  Sidney's  face  best.  It 
was  so  full  of  a  sort  of  a  leaping-up  pity  and 
wistfulness  that  it  went  to  your  heart,  like  words. 
I  knew  that  with  her  the  minute  wasn't  no  mere 
thrill  nor  twitter  nor  pucker,  the  way  sad  things 
is  to  some,  but  it  was  just  a  straight  sounding  of 
a  voice  from  a  place  of  pain.  And  so  it  was  to 
Insley.  But  Mis'  Emmons,  she  never  give  her 
self  time  to  be  swamped  by  anything  without  try 
ing  to  climb  out  right  while  the  swamping  was 
going  on. 

"'What'll  we  do  ?'  she  says,  rapid.  'What  in 
this  world  shall  we  do  ?  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
anything  —  well,  I  wish  somebody  would  tell  me 
what  we're  going  to  do. ' 

'"Let's  be  glad  for  one  thing,'  says  Allen 
Insley,  'that  he's  here  with  you  people  to-night. 
Let's  be  glad  of  that  first  —  that  he's  here  with 
you.' 

"  Miss  Sidney  looked  away  to  the  dark  window. 

"'That  poor  man,'  she  says.  'That  poor 
father.  .  .  .' 

"We  talked  about  it  a  little,  kind  of  loose 
ends  and  nothing  to  fasten  to,  like  you  will.  Mis' 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  51 

Emmons   was   the  first  to  get  back  inside   the 
minute. 

"'Well,'  she  says,  brisk,  'do  let's  go  in  and 
feed  the  child  while  we  have  him.  Nobody 
knows  when  he's  had  anything  to  eat  but  those 
unholy  cream-puffs.  Let's  heat  him  some  broth 
and  let's  carry  in  the  things.' 

"Back  by  the  fire  Christopher  set  doing  noth 
ing,  but  just  looking  in  the  blaze  like  his  very 
eyesight  had  been  chilly  and  damp  and  needed 
seeing  to.  He  cried  out  jolly  when  he  see  all 
the  pretty  harness  of  the  chafing-dish  and  the 
tray  full  of  promises. 

"'Oh,'  he  cries,   ' Robin!9 

"She  went  over  to  him,  and  she  nestled  him 
now  like  she  couldn't  think  of  enough  to  do  for 
him  nor  enough  things  to  say  to  keep  him  com 
pany.  I  see  Insley  watching  her,  and  I  won 
dered  if  it  didn't  come  to  him  like  it  come  to  me, 
that  for  the  pure  art  of  doing  nothing  so  that  it 
seems  like  it  couldn't  be  got  along  without,  a 
woman  —  some  women  —  can  be  commended 
by  heaven  to  a  world  that  always  needs  that  kind 
of  doing  nothing. 

' '  Children  have  a  genius  for  getting  rid  of  the 
things  that  don't  count,'  Miss  Sidney  says.  'I 
love  his  calling  me  "Robin."  Mustn't  there  be 
some  place  where  we  don't  build  walls  around 
our  names  ?' 


52  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

"Insley  thought  for  a  minute.  'You  oughtn't 
to  be  called  "  Miss,"  and  you  oughtn't  to  wear  a 
hat,'  he  concluded,  sober.  'Both  of  them  make 
you  --  too  much  there.  They  draw  a  line  around 
you.' 

'"I  don't  feel  like  Miss  to  myself,'  she  says, 
grave.  'I  feel  like  Robin.  I  believe  I  am  Robin  !' 

"And  I  made  up  my  mind  right  then  and 
there  that,  to  myself  anyway,  I  was  always  going 
to  call  her  Robin.  It's  funny  about  first  names. 
Some  of  them  fit  right  down  and  snuggle  up  close 
to  their  person  so  that  you  can't  think  of  them 
apart.  And  some  of  them  slip  loose  and  dangle 
along  after  their  person,  quite  a  ways  back, 
so  that  you're  always  surprised  when  now  and 
then  they  catch  up  and  get  themselves  spoke  by 
someone.  But  the  name  Robin  just  seemed  to 
wrap  Miss  Sidney  up  in  itself  so  that,  as  she  said, 
she  was  Robin.  I  like  to  call  her  so. 

"It  was  her  that  engineered  the  chafing-dish. 
A  chafing-dish  is  a  thing  I've  always  looked  on  a 
little  askant.  I  couldn't  cook  with  folks  looking 
at  me  no  more  than  I  could  wash  my  face  in 
company.  I  remember  one  hot  July  day  when 
there  was  a  breeze  in  my  front  door,  I  took  my 
ironing-board  in  the  parlor  and  tried  to  iron 
there.  But  land,  I  felt  all  left-handed ;  and  I 
know  it  would  be  that  way  if  I  ever  tried  to 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  53 

cook  in  there,  on  my  good  rug.  Robin  though, 
she  done  it  wonderful.  And  pretty  soon  she 
put  the  hot  cream  gravy  on  some  crumbled-up 
bread  and  took  it  to  Christopher,  with  a  cup  of 
broth  that  smelled  like  when  they  used  to  say, 
'Dinner's  ready,'  when  you  was  twelve  years 
old. 

"He  looked  up  at  her  eager.  'Can  you  cut 
it  in  squares  ?'  he  asked. 

'"In  what  ?'  she  asks  him  over. 

'"Squares.  And  play  it's  molasses  candy  — 
white  molasses  candy  ?'  he  says. 

"'Oh,'  says  Robin,  'no,  not  in  squares.  But 
let's  play  it's  hot  ice-cream.' 

"'Hot  ice-cream,'  he  says,  real  slow,  his  eyes 
getting  wide.  To  play  Little  Boy  King  and  have 
hot  ice-cream  was  about  as  much  as  he  could  take 
care  of,  in  joy.  Sometimes  I  get  to  wondering 
how  we  ever  do  anything  else  except  collect  chil 
dren  together  and  give  them  nice  little  simple 
fairylands.  But  while,  on  the  sly,  we  was  all 
watching  to  see  Christopher  sink  deep  in  the  de 
light  of  that  hot  toothsome  supper,  he  suddenly 
lays  down  his  spoon  and  stares  over  to  us  with 
wide  eyes,  eyes  that  there  wasn't  no  tears  gather 
ing  in,  though  his  little  mouth  was  quivering. 

"'What  is  it  —  what,  dear  ?'  Robin  asks,  from 
her  stool  near  his  feet. 


54 

'"My  daddy,'  says  the  little  boy.  'I  was 
thinking  if  he  could  have  some  this.' 

"Robin  touched  her  cheek  down  on  his  arm. 

"'Blessed,'  she  says,  'think  how  glad  he'd  be 
to  have  you  have  some.  He'd  want  you  to  eat 
it  —  wouldn't  he  ?' 

"The  child  nodded  and  took  up  his  spoon, 
but  he  sighed  some.  'I  wish't  he'd  hurry,'  he 
says,  and  ate,  obedient. 

"Robin  looked  up  at  us  -  -  I  don't  think  a 
woman  is  ever  so  lovely  as  when  she's  sympa 
thizing,  and  it  don't  make  much  difference  what 
it's  over,  a  sore  finger  or  a  sore  heart,  it's  equally 
becoming. 

'"I  know,'  she  says  to  us,  'I  know  just  the 
place  where  that  hurts.  I  remember,  when  I 
was  little,  being  in  a  house  that  a  band  passed, 
and  because  mother  wasn't  there,  I  ran  inside 
and  wouldn't  listen.  It's  such  a  special  kind  of 
hurt. 

"From  the  end  of  the  settle  that  was  some 
in  the  shadow,  Insley  set  watching  her,  and  he 
looked  as  if  he  was  thinking  just  what  I  was 
thinking :  that  she  was  the  kind  that  would 
most  always  know  just  the  place  things  hurt. 
And  I  bet  she'd  know  what  to  do  —  and  a  thou 
sand  kinds  of  things  that  she'd  go  and  do  it. 

"'0  ...        Christopher    says.     'I    like  this 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  55 

most  next  better  than  molasses  candy,  cutted  in 
squares.  I  do,  Robin  !'  He  looked  down  at 
her,  his  spoon  waiting.  'Is  you  that  Robin 
Redbreast  ?'  he  inquired. 

"'I'm  any  Robin  you  want  me  to  be,'  she  told 
him.  'To-morrow  we'll  play  that,  shall  we  ?' 

'"Am  I  here  to-morrow?  Don't  I  have  to 
walk  to-morrow  ? '  he  ask'  her. 

"  '  No,  you  won't  have  to  walk  to-morrow,' 
she  told  him. 

"Christopher  leaned  back,  altogether  nearer 
to  luxury  than  I  guess  he'd  ever  been. 

"'I'm  a  little  boy  king,  and  it's  hot  ice-cream, 
and  I  love  you?  he  tops  it  off  to  Robin. 

"She  smiled  at  him,  leaning  on  his  chair. 

"'Isn't  it  a  miracle,'  she  says  to  us,  'the  way 
we  can  call  out --being  liked?  We  don't  do 
something,  and  people  don't  pay  any  attention 
and  don't  know  the  difference.  Then  some 
little  thing  happens,  and  there  they  are  —  liking 
us,  doing  a  real  thing.' 

"'I  know  it,'  I  says,  fervent.  ''Sometimes,'  I 
says,  'it  seems  to  me  wonderful  cosey  to  be  alive  ! 
I'm  glad  I'm  it.' 

"So  am  I,'  says  Insley,  and  leaned  forward. 
'  There's  never  been  such  a  time  to  be  alive,'  he 
says.  'Mrs.  Emmons,  why  don't  we  ask  Miss 
Sidney  for  some  plans  for  our  plan  ?' 


56  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

"Do  you  know  how  sometimes  you'll  have  a 
number  of  floating  ideas  in  your  mind--  want 
ing  to  do  this,  thinking  that  would  be  nice, 
dreaming  of  something  else  —  and  yet  afraid  to 
say  much  about  it,  because  it  seems  like  the 
ideas  or  the  dreams  is  much  too  wild  for  anybody 
else  to  have,  too  ?  And  then  mebbe  after  a 
while,  you'll  find  that  somebody  had  the  same 
idea  and  dreamed  it  out,  and  died  with  it  ?  Or 
somebody  else  tried  to  make  it  go  a  little  ?  Well, 
that  was  what  begun  to  happen  to  me  that  night 
while  I  heard  Insley  talk,  only  I  see  that  my 
floating  ideas,  that  wan't  properly  attached  to 
the  sides  of  my  head,  was  actually  being  worked 
out  here  and  there,  and  that  Insley  knew  about 
them. 

"I  donno  how  to  tell  what  my  ideas  was.  I'd 
had  them  from  time  to  time,  and  a  good  many 
of  us  ladies  had,  only  we  didn't  know  what  to  do 
with  them.  And  an  idea  that  you  don't  know 
what  to  do  with  is  like  a  wild  animal  out  of  its 
cage :  there  ain't  no  performance  till  its  ad 
justed.  For  instance,  when  we'd  wanted  to  pave 
Daphne  Street  and  the  whole  town  council  had 
got  up  and  swung  its  arms  over  its  head  and  said 
that  having  an  economical  administration  was 
better  than  paving --why,  then  us  ladies  had 
all  had  the  same  idee  about  that. 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  57 

"'Is  the  town  run  for  the  sake  of  being  the 
town,  with  money  in  its  treasury,  or  is  the  town 
run  for  the  folks  in  it  ?'  I  remember  Mis'  Top- 
lady  asking,  puzzled.  '  Ain't  the  folks  the  town 
really  ?'  she  ask'.  'And  if  they  are,  why  can't 
they  pave  themselves  with  their  own  money  ? 
Don't  that  make  sense  ?'  she  ask'  us,  and  we 
thought  it  did. 

"Us  ladies  had  got  Daphne  Street  paved,  or 
at  least  it  was  through  us  they  made  the 
beginning,  but  there  was  things  we  hadn't 
done.  We  was  all  taking  milk  of  Rob  Henney 
that  we  knew  his  cow  barns  wasn't  at  all  eat 
able,  but  he  was  the  only  milk  wagon,  nobody 
else  in  town  delivering,  so  we  kept  on  taking,  but 
squeamish,  squeamish.  Then  there  was  the 
grocery  stores,  leaving  their  food  all  over  the 
sidewalk,  dust-peppered  and  dirt-salted.  But 
nobody  liked  to  say  anything  to  Silas  Sykes  that 
keeps  the  post-office  store,  nor  to  Joe  Betts, 
that  his  father  before  him  kept  the  meat  market, 
being  we  all  felt  delicate,  like  at  asking  a  church 
member  to  come  out  to  church.  Then  us  ladies 
had  bought  a  zinc  wagon  and  started  it  around  to 
pick  up  the  garbage  to  folks'  doors,  but  the 
second  summer  the  council  wouldn't  help  pay 
for  the  team,  because  it  was  a  saving  council,  and 
so  the  wagon  was  setting  in  a  shed,  with  its  hands 


58  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

folded.  Then  there  was  Black  Hollow,  that 
we'd  wanted  filled  up  with  dirt  instead  of 
scummy  water,  arranging  for  typhoid  fever  and 
other  things,  but  the  council  having  got  started 
paving,  was  engaged  in  paving  the  swamp  out 
for  miles,  Silas  Sykes's  cousin  being  in  the 
wooden  block  business.  And,  too,  us  ladies 
was  just  then  hopping  mad  over  the  doings  they 
was  planning  for  the  Fourth  of  July,  that  wasn't 
no  more  than  making  a  cash  register  of  the  day 
to  earn  money  into.  All  these  things  had  been 
disturbing  us,  and  more ;  but  though  we  talked 
it  over  considerable,  none  of  us  knew  what  to 
do,  or  whether  anything  could  be.  It  seemed  as 
though  every  way  we  moved  a  hand,  it  hit  out 
at  the  council  or  else  went  into  some  business 
man's  pocket.  And  not  having  anybody  to  tell 
us  what  other  towns  were  doing,  we  just  set  still 
and  wished,  passive. 

"Well,  and  that  night,  while  I  heard  Insley 
talking,  was  the  first  I  knew  that  other  towns 
had  thought  about  these  things,  too,  and  was 
beginning  to  stir  and  to  stir  things.  Insley 
talked  about  it  light  enough,  laughing,  taking  it 
all  casual  on  the  outside,  but  underneath  with  a 
splendid  earnestness  that  was  like  the  warp  to 
his  words.  He  talked  like  we  could  pick  Friend 
ship  Village  up,  same  as  a  strand  if  we  wanted, 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  59 

and  make  it  fine  and  right  for  weaving  in  a  big 
pattern  that  his  eyes  seemed  to  see.  He  talked 
like  our  village,  and  everybody's  village  and 
everybody's  city  wasn't  just  a  lot  of  streets  laid 
down  and  walls  set  up,  and  little  families  and 
little  clubs  and  little  separate  groups  of  folks 
organized  by  themselves.  But  he  spoke  like 
the  whole  town  was  just  one  street  and  no  walls, 
and  like  every  town  was  a  piece  of  the  Big  Fam 
ily  that  lives  on  the  same  street,  all  around  the 
world  and  back  again.  And  he  seemed  to  feel 
that  the  chief  thing  all  of  us  was  up  to  was 
thinking  about  this  family  and  doing  for  it  and 
being  it,  and  getting  it  to  be  the  way  it  can  be 
when  we  all  know  how.  And  he  seemed  to  think 
the  things  us  ladies  had  wanted  to  do  was  some 
of  the  things  that  would  help  it  to  be  the  way 
it  can. 

"When  he  stopped,  Robin  looked  up  at  him 
from  the  hearth-rug:  '"The  world  is  begin 
ning,"  she  quotes  to  him  from  somewheres ; 
'"  I  must  go  and  help  the  king." 

"He  nodded,  looking  down  at  her  and  seeing, 
as  he  must  have  seen,  that  her  face  was  all  kin 
dled  into  the  same  kind  of  a  glory  that  was  in 
his.  It  was  a  nice  minute  for  them,  but  I  was 
so  excited  I  piped  right  up  in  the  middle  of  it :  — 

"'Oh,'   I  says,   'them  things!     Was   it  them 


60  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

kind  of  things  you  meant  about  in  Sodality  to 
night  that  we'd  ought  to  do  ?  Why,  us  ladies  has 
wanted  to  do  things  like  that,  but  we  felt  sort  of 
sneaking  about  it  and  like  we  was  working 
against  the  council  and  putting  our  interests 
before  the  town  treasury — : 

"'And  of  the  cemetery,'  he  says. 

"'Is  that,'  I  ask'  him,  'what  you're  professor 
of,  over  to  Indian  Mound  college  ?' 

'"Something  like  that,'  he  says. 

"'Nothing  in  a  book,  with  long  words  and 
italics  ?'  I  ask'  him. 

"'Well,'  he  says,  'it's  getting  in  books  now,  a 
little.  But  it  doesn't  need  any  long  words.' 

"'Why,'  I  says,  'it's  just  being  professor  of 
human  beings,  then  ?' 

"'Trying  to  be,  perhaps,'  he  says,  grave. 

'"Professor  of  Human  Beings,'  I  said  over  to 
myself;  'professor  of  being  human.  .  .  .' 

"On  this  nice  minute,  the  front  door,  without 
no  bell  or  knock,  opened  to  let  in  Mis'  Holcomb- 
that-was-Mame-Bliss,  with  a  shawl  over  her 
head  and  a  tin  can  in  her  hand. 

"'No,  I  won't  set  any,  thanks,'  she  says.  'I 
just  got  to  thinking  —  mercy,  no.  Don't  give 
me  any  kind  of  anything  to  eat  any  such  time 
of  night  as  this.  I  should  be  up  till  midnight 
taking  soda.  That's  what  ails  folks'  stomachs, 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  61 

my  notion  —  these  late  lunches  on  nobody 
knows  what.  No,  I  got  to  bed  and  I  was  just 
dropping  off  when  I  happened  to  sense  how 
wringing  wet  that  child  was,  and  that  I  betted 
he'd  take  cold  and  have  the  croup  in  the  night, 
and  you  wouldn't  have  no  remedy  --  not  having 
any  children,  so.  It  rousted  me  right  up  wide 
awake,  and  I  dressed  me  and  run  over  here  with 
this.  Here.  Put  some  on  a  rag  and  clap  it  on 
his  chest  if  he  coughs  croupy.  I  donno's  it 
would  hurt  him  to  clap  it  on  him,  anyway,  so's 
to  be  sure.  No,  I  can't  stop.  It's  'way  past  my 
bed-time.  .  .  . ' 

"'There's  lots  of  professors  of  being  human, 
Miss  Marsh,'  Insley  says  to  me,  low. 

"Mis'  Holcomb  stood  thinking  a  minute, 
brushing  her  lips  with  the  fringe  of  her  shawl. 

"  'Mebbe  somebody  up  to  the  Proudfits'  would 
do  something  for  him,'  she  says.  'I  see  they're 
lit  up.  Who's  coming  ?' 

"'Mr.  Alex  Proudfit  will  be  here  to-morrow,' 
Mis'  Emmons  told  her.  'He  has  some  people 
coming  to  him  in  a  day  or  two,  for  a  house  party 
over  the  Fourth.' 

'"Will  he  be  here  so  soon  ?'  says  Insley.  'I've 
been  looking  forward  to  meeting  him  —  I've  a 
letter  to  him  from  Indian  Mound.' 

"'Whatever    happens,'    says    Mis'    Holcomb, 


62  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

'I'll  get  up  attic  first  thing  in  the  morning  and 
find  some  old  clothes  for  this  dear  child.  I  may 
be  weak  in  the  pocket-book,  but  I'm  strong  on 
old  duds.' 

"Insley  and  I  both  said  good  night,  so's  to 
walk  home  with  Mis'  Holcomb,  and  Chris 
topher  kissed  us  both,  simple  as  belonging  to  us. 

" '  We  had  that  hot  ice-cream,'  he  announced  to 
Mis'  Holcomb. 

"'The  lamb!'  says  she,  and  turns  her  back, 
hasty. 

"I  wondered  a  little  at  Mis'  Emmons  not 
saying  anything  to  her  about  the  letter  we'd 
found,  that  made  us  know  somebody  would  have 
to  do  something.  But  just  as  we  was  starting 
out,  Mis'  Emmons  says  to  me  low,  '  Don't  let's 
say  anything  about  his  father  yet.  I  have  a  plan 
—  I  want  to  think  it  over  first.'  And  I  liked 
knowing  that  already  she  had  a  plan,  and  I  betted 
it  was  a  plan  that  would  be  born  four-square  to 
its  own  future. 

Insley  stood  holding  the  door  open.  The 
rain  had  stopped  altogether  now,  and  the  night 
was  full  of  little  things  sticking  their  heads 
up  in  deep  grasses  and  beginning  to  sing  about 
it.  I  donno  about  what,  but  about  something 
nice.  And  Insley  was  looking  toward  Robin, 
and  I  see  that  all  the  ancestors  he'd  ever  had 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  63 

was  lingering  around  in  his  face,  like  they  knew 
about  something  he  was  just  beginning  to  know 
about.  Something  nice  —  nicer  than  the  little 
outdoor  voices. 

"Good  night,  Miss  Sidney,'  he  says.  'And 
what  a  good  night  for  Christopher  ! '  And  he 
looked  as  if  he  wanted  to  add :  'And  for  me.' 

'"Good  night,   Mis'   Emmons,'  I  says.     'It's 
been  an  evening  like  a  full  meal.' 


IV 


messenger  the  next  day  noon  come  a 
letter  for  me  that  made  me  laugh  a  little  and 
that  made  me  a  little  bit  mad,  too.  This  was 
it:  — 

"'Dear  Calliope: 

"  '  Come  up  and  help  straighten  things  out, 
do.  This  place  breathes  desolation.  Every 
thing  is  everywhere  except  everything  which 
everyone  wants,  which  is  lost.  Come  at  once, 
Calliope,  pray,  and  dine  with  me  to-night  and 
give  me  as  much  time  as  you  can  for  a  fortnight. 
I'm  having  some  people  here  next  week  — 
twenty  or  so  for  over  the  Fourth  —  and  a  party. 
A  company,  you  know  !  I  need  you. 

"  '  ALEX   PROUDFIT.' 

"It  was  so  exactly  like  Alex  to  send  for  me 
just  plain  because  he  wanted  me.  Never  a  word 
about  if  I  was  able  or  if  I  wasn't  putting  up 
berries  or  didn't  have  company  or  wasn't  dead. 
I  hadn't  heard  a  sound  from  him  in  the  two 
years  or  more  that  he'd  been  gone,  and  yet  now 
it  was  just  'Come,'  like  a  lord.  And  for  that 

64 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  65 

matter  like  he  used  to  do  when  he  was  in  knicker 
bockers  and  coming  to  my  house  for  fresh 
cookies,  whether  I  had  any  baked  or  not.  But 
I  remember  actually  baking  a  batch  for  him 
one  day  while  he  galloped  his  pony  up  and  down 
the  Plank  Road  waiting  for  them.  And  I  done 
the  same  way  now.  I  got  my  work  out  of  the 
way  and  went  right  up  there,  like  I'd  always 
done  for  that  family  in  the  forty  years  I  could 
think  back  to  knowing  them,  when  I  was  a  girl. 
I  guessed  that  Alex  had  lit  down  sudden,  a  day 
or  so  behind  his  telegram  to  the  servants  ;  and  I 
found  that  was  what  he  had  done. 

"Proudfit  House  stands  on  a  hill,  and  it  looks 
like  the  hill  had  billowed  up  gentle  from  under 
neath  and  had  let  some  of  the  house  flow  down 
the  sides.  It  was  built  ambitious,  of  the  good 
cream  brick  that  gives  to  a  lot  of  our  Middle 
West  towns  their  colour  of  natural  flax  in  among 
the  green  ;  it  had  been  big  in  the  beginning,  and 
to  it  had  been  added  a  good  many  afterthoughts 
and  postscripts  of  conservatory  and  entrance 
porch  and  sun  room  and  screened  veranda,  till 
the  hill  couldn't  hold  them  all.  The  house  was 
one  of  them  that  was  built  fifty  years  ago  and 
that  has  since  been  pecked  and  patted  to  suit 
modern  uses,  pinched  off  here  and  pulled  off  there 
to  fit  notions  refining  themselves  gradual.  And 


66  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

all  the  time  the  house  was  let  to  keep  some  nice, 
ugly  things  that  after  a  while,  by  mere  age  and 
use-to-ness,  were  finally  accepted  wholesale  as 
dignified  and  desirable.  The  great  brown  man 
sard  roof,  niched  and  glassed  in  two  places  for 
statues  —  and  having  them,  too,  inside  my  mem 
ory  and  until  Mr.  Alex  pulled  them  down ;  the 
scalloped  tower  on  a  wing ;  the  round  red  glass 
window  on  a  stairway  --  these  we  all  sort  of  come 
to  agree  to  as  qualities  of  the  place  that  couldn't 
be  changed  no  more'n  the  railroad  track.  Tap 
estries  and  water-colours  and  Persian  carpets 
went  on  inside  the  house,  but  outside  was  all  the 
little  twists  of  a  taste  that  had  started  in  naked 
and  was  getting  dressed  up  by  degrees. 

"Since  the  marriage  of  her  daughter  Clemen 
tina,  Madame  Proudfit  had  spent  a  good  deal  of 
time  abroad,  and  the  house  had  been  shut  up. 
This  shutting  up  of  people's  houses  always  sur 
prises  me.  When  I  shut  up  my  house  to  go 
away  for  a  couple  of  months  or  so,  I  just  make 
sure  the  kitchen  fire  is  out,  and  I  carry  the  bird 
down  to  Mis'  Holcomb's,  and  I  turn  the  key  in 
the  front  door  and  start  off.  But  land,  land 
when  Proudfit  House  is  going  to  be  shut,  the 
servants  work  days  on  end.  Rugs  up,  curtains 
down,  furniture  covered  and  setting  around 
out  of  place,  pictures  and  ornaments  wrapped  up 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  67 

in  blue  paper  —  I  always  wonder  why.  Closing 
my  house  is  like  putting  it  to  sleep  for  a  little 
while,  but  closing  Proudfit  House  is  some  like 
seeing  it  through  a  spasm  and  into  a  trance. 
They  done  that  to  the  house  most  every  summer, 
and  I  used  to  think  they  acted  like  spring  was  a 
sort  of  contagion,  or  a  seventeen-year  locust,  or 
something  to  be  fumigated  for.  I  supposed  that 
was  the  way  the  house  looked  when  Alex  got 
home  to  it,  and  of  course  a  man  must  hate  it  worse 
than  a  woman  does,  because  he  doesn't  know 
which  end  to  tell  them  to  take  hold  of  to  unravel. 
So  I  went  right  up  there  when  he  sent  for  me  — 
and  then  it  was  a  little  fun,  too,  to  be  on  the 
inside  of  what  was  happening  there,  that  all  the 
village  was  so  curious  about. 

"He'd  gone  off  when  I  got  there,  gone  off  on 
horseback  on  some  business,  but  he'd  left  word 
that  he'd  be  back  in  a  little  while,  and  would 
I  help  him  out  in  the  library.  I  knew  what 
that  meant.  The  books  was  all  out  of  the 
shelves  and  packed  in  paper,  and  he  wanted 
me  to  see  that  they  got  back  into  their  right 
places,  like  I'd  done  many  and  many  a  time  for 
his  mother.  So  I  worked  there  the  whole  after 
noon,  with  a  couple  of  men  to  help  me,  and  the 
portrait  of  Linda  Proudfit  on  the  wall  watching 
me  like  it  wanted  to  tell  me  something,  maybe 


68  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

about  the  way  she  went  off  and  died,  away  from 
home ;  and  a  little  after  four  o'clock  a  servant 
let  somebody  into  the  room. 

"I  looked  up  expecting  to  see  Alex,  and  it 
surprised  me  some  to  see  Insley  instead.  But 
I  guessed  how  it  was :  that  Alex  Proudfit  being 
a  logical  one  to  talk  over  Friendship  Village 
with,  Insley  couldn't  lose  a  day  in  bringing  him 
his  letter. 

'Well,  Miss  Marsh,'  says  he,  'and  do  you 
live  everywhere,  like  a  good  fairy  ?' 

"I  thought  afterwards  that  I  might  have 
said  to  him:  'No,  Mr.  Insley.  And  do  you 
appear  everywhere,  like  a  god  ?'  But  at  the 
time  I  didn't  think  of  anything  to  say,  and  I 
just  smiled.  I'm  like  that,--  if  I  like  anybody, 
I  can't  think  of  a  thing  to  say  back  ;  but  to  Silas 
Sykes  I  could  talk  back  all  day. 

"We'd  got  the  room  part  in  order  by  then, 
and  Insley  sat  down  and  looked  around  him, 
enjoyable.  It  was  a  beautiful  room.  I  always 
think  that  that  library  ain't  no  amateur  at  its 
regular  business  of  being  a  vital  part  of  the 
home.  Some  rooms  are  awful  amateurs  at  it, 
and  some  ain't  no  more  than  apprentices,  and 
some  are  downright  enemies  to  the  house 
they're  in.  But  that  library  I  always  like  to 
look  around.  It  seems  to  me,  if  I  really  knew 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  .  69 

about  such  things,  and  how  they  ought  to  be,  I 
couldn't  like  that  room  any  better.  Colour, 
proportion,  window,  shadow --they  was  all 
lined  up  in  a  kind  of  an  enjoyable  profession 
alism  of  doing  their  best.  The  room  was  awake 
now,  too  --  I  had  the  windows  open  and  I'd 
started  the  clock.  Insley  set  looking  around 
as  if  there  was  sighs  inside  him.  I  knew  how, 
down  in  New  England,  his  father's  home  sort 
of  behaved  itself  like  this  home.  But  after 
college,  he  had  had  to  choose  his  way,  and  he 
had  faced  about  to  the  new  west,  the  new  world, 
where  big  ways  of  living  seemed  to  him  to  be 
sweeping  as  a  wind  sweeps.  He  had  chose  as 
he  had  chose,  and  I  suppose  he  was  glad  of  that ; 
but  I  knew  the  room  he  had  when  he  was  in  town, 
at  Threat  Hubbelthwait's  hotel,  must  be  a  good 
deal  like  being  homesick,  and  that  this  library 
was  like  coming  home. 

'"Mr.  Proudfit  had  just  returned  and  would 
be  down  at  once,'  the  man  come  back  and  told 
him.  And  while  he  waited  Insley  says  to  me  : 

"'Have  you  seen  anything  of  the  little  boy 
to-day,  Miss  Marsh  ?' 

"I  was  dying  to  answer  back:  'Yes,  I  see 
Miss  Sidney  early  this  morning,'  but  you  can't 
answer  back  all  you  die  to.  So  I  told  him  yes, 
I'd  seen  all  three  of  them  and  they  was  to  be 


70  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

up  in  the  city  all  day  to  buy  some  things  for 
Christopher.  Mis'  Emmons  and  Robin  was 
both  to  come  up  to  Proudfit  House  to  Alex's 
house  party  —  seems  they'd  met  abroad  some- 
wheres  a  year  or  more  back ;  and  they  was 
going  to  bring  Christopher,  who  Mis'  Emmons 
didn't  show  any  sign  of  giving  up  while  her 
plan,  whatever  it  was,  was  getting  itself  thought 
over.  So  they'd  whisked  the  child  off  to  the 
city  that  day  to  get  him  the  things  he  needed. 
And  there  wasn't  time  to  say  anything  more, 
for  in  come  Alex  Proudfit. 

"He  was  in  his  riding  clothes -- horseback 
dress  we  always  call  it  in  the  village,  which  I 
s'pose  isn't  city  talk,  proper.  He  was  long 
and  thin  and  brown,  and  sort  of  slow-moving 
in  his  motions,  but  quick  and  nervous  in  his  talk  ; 
and  I  don't  know  what  there  was  about  him 
—  his  clothes,  or  his  odd,  old-country  looking 
ring,  or  the  high  white  thing  wound  twice 
around  his  neck,  or  his  way  of  pronouncing  his 
words  --  but  he  seemed  a  good  deal  like  a  pic 
ture  of  a  title  or  a  noted  man.  The  minute 
you  looked  at  him,  you  turned  proud  of  being 
with  him,  and  you  pretty  near  felt  distinguished 
yourself,  in  a  nice  way,  because  you  was  in  his 
company.  Alex  was  like  that. 

"'I  don't  like  having  kept  you  waiting,'  he 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  71 

says  to  Insley.  'I'm  just  in.  By  Jove,  I've  left 
Topping's  letter  somewhere  —  Insley,  is  it  ? 
thank  you.  Of  course.  Well,  Calliope,  bless 
ings  !  I  knew  I  could  count  on  you.  How  are 
you  --  you  look  it.  No,  don't  run  away.  Keep 
straight  on  —  Mr.  Insley  will  pardon  us  getting 
settled  under  his  nose.  Now  what  can  I  get 
you,  Mr.  Insley  ?  If  you've  walked  up,  you're 
warm.  No  ?  As  you  will.  It's  mighty  jolly 
getting  back  —  for  a  minute,  you  know.  I 
couldn't  stop  here.  How  the  devil  do  you 
stop  here  all  the  time  —  or  do  you  stop  here 
all  the  time  ?  .  .  .'  All  this  he  poured  out  in 
a  breath.  He  always  had  talked  fast,  but  now 
I  see  that  he  talked  more  than  fast  —  he  talked 
foreign. 

"'I'm  here  some  of  the  time,'  says  Insley; 
'I  hoped  that  you  were  going  to  be,  too.' 

'"I  ?'  Alex  said.  'Oh,  no  —  no.  I  feel  like 
this  :  while  I'm  in  the  world,  I  want  it  at  its 
best.  I  want  it  at  its  latest  moment.  I  want 
to  be  living  now.  Friendship  Village  —  why, 
man,  it's  living  half  a  century  ago  —  anyway, 
a  quarter.  It  doesn't  know  about  A.D.  nine- 
teen-anything.  I  love  the  town,  you  know,  for 
what  it  is.  But  confound  it,  I'm  living  now* 

"Insley  leaned  forward.  I  was  dusting  away 
on  an  encyclopaedia,  but  I  see  his  face  and  I 


72  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

knew  what  it  meant.  This  was  just  what  he'd 
been  hoping  for.  Alex  Proudfit  was  a  man  who 
understood  that  the  village  hadn't  caught  up. 
So  he  would  want  to  help  it  —  naturally  he 
would. 

"'I'm  amazed  at  the  point  of  view,'  Alex 
went  on.  'I  never  saw  such  self-sufficiency  as 
the  little  towns  have.  In  England,  on  the  con 
tinent,  the  villages  know  their  place  and  keep 
it,  look  up  to  the  towns  and  all  that  —  play 
the  peasant,  as  they  are.  Know  their  betters. 
Here  ?  Bless  you.  Not  a  man  down  town  here 
but  will  tell  you  that  the  village  has  got  every 
thing  that  is  admirable.  They  believe  it,  too. 
Electric  light,  water,  main  street  paved,  ceme 
tery  kept  up,  "nice  residences,"  telephones, 
library  open  two  nights  a  week,  fresh  lettuce 
all  winter  —  fine,  up-to-date  little  place  !  And, 
Lord,  but  it's  a  back-water.  With  all  its  im 
provements  the  whole  idea  of  modern  life  some 
how  escapes  it  --  music  and  art,  drama,  letters, 
manners,  as  integral  parts  of  everyday  living  — 
what  does  it  know  of  them  ?  It  thinks  these 
things  are  luxuries,  outside  the  scheme  of  real 
life,  like  monoplanes.  Jove,  it's  delicious  ! ' 

"He  leaned  back,  laughing.  Insley  must 
have  felt  his  charm.  Alex  always  was  fasci 
nating.  His  eyes  were  gray  and  sort  of  hob- 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  73 

nobbed  with  your  own ;  his  square  chin  just 
kind  of  threatened  a  dimple  without  breaking 
into  one ;  his  dark  hair  done  clusters  like  a 
statue ;  and  then  there  was  a  lot  of  just  plain 
charm  pouring  off  him.  But  of  course  more 
than  with  this,  Insley  was  filled  with  his  own 
hope :  if  Alex  Proudfit  understood  some  things 
about  the  village  that  ought  to  be  made  right, 
it  looked  to  him  as  though  they  might  do  every 
thing  together. 

"'Why,'  Insley  says,  'you  don't  know  — 
you  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to  hear  you  say 
this.  It's  exactly  the  thing  my  head  has  been 
full  of ' 

"'Of  course  your  head  is  full  of  it,'  says  Alex. 
'How  can  it  help  but  be  when  you're  fast  here 
some  of  the  time?  If  you  don't  mind — what  is 
it  that  keeps  you  here  at  all  ?  I  don't  think  I 
read  Topping's  letter  properly.  .  .  .' 

"Insley  looked  out  from  all  over  his  face. 

"'I  stay,'  he  says,  'just  because  all  this  is 
so.  It  needs  somebody  to  stay,  don't  you 
think?' 

'"Ah,  yes,  I  see,'  says  Alex,  rapid  and  foreign. 
'How  do  you  mean,  though  ?  Surely  you  don't 
mean  renouncing —  and  that  sort  of  thing  ?' 

" Renouncing — no!'  says  Insley.     'Getting 
into  the  game.' 


74  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"He  got  his  enthusiasm  down  into  still  places 
and  outlined  what  he  meant.  It  was  all  at 
the  ends  of  his  fingers  —  what  there  was  to  do 
if  the  town  was  to  live  up  to  itself,  to  find  ways 
to  express  the  everyday  human  fellowship  that 
Insley  see  underneath  everything.  And  Alex 
Proudfit  listened,  giving  that  nice,  careful,  paci 
fying  attention  of  his.  He  was  always  so  polite 
that  his  listening  was  like  answering.  When 
Insley  got  through,  Alex's  very  disagreeing  with 
him  was  sympathizing. 

"'My  dear  man,'  says  he  —  I  remember 
every  word  because  it  was  something  I'd  won 
dered  sometimes  too,  only  I'd  done  my  wondering 
vague,  like  you  do  —  '  My  dear  man,  but  are 
you  not,  after  all,  anticipating?  This  is  just  the 
way  Nature  works  --  beating  these  things  into 
the  heads  and  hearts  of  generations.  Aren't  you 
trying  to  do  it  all  at  once  ? ' 

"'I'm  trying  to  help  nature,  to  be  a  part 
of  nature  —  exactly,'  says  Insley,  'and  to  do 
it  here  in  Friendship  Village.' 

"'Why,'  says  Alex,  'you'll  be  talking  about 
facilitating  God's  plan  next  —  helping  him 
along,  by  Jove.' 

"Insley  looks  at  him  level.  'I  mean  that 
now,'  he  says,  'if  you  want  to  put  it  that 
way.' 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  75 

"'Good  Lord,'  says  Alex,  'but  how  do  you 
know  what  --  what  he  wants  ?' 

"'Don't  you  ?'  says  Insley,  even. 

"Alex  Proudfit  turned  and  touched  a  bell. 
'Look  here,'  he  says,  'you  stay  and  dine, 
won't  you  ?  I'm  alone  to-night  —  Calliope 
and  I  are.  Stay.  I  always  enjoy  threshing  this 
out.' 

"To  the  man-servant  who  just  about  breathed 
with  a  well-trained  stoop  of  being  deferential, 
his  master  give  the  order  about  the  table. 
'And,  Bayless,  have  them  hunt  out  some  of 
those  tea-roses  they  had  in  bloom  the  other 
day --you  should  see  them,  Calliope.  Oh, 
and,  Bayless,  hurry  dinner  a  bit.  I'm  as  hungry 
as  lions,'  he  added  to  us,  and  he  made  me  think 
of  the  little  boy  in  knickerbockers,  asking  me 
for  fresh  cookies. 

"He  slipped  back  to  their  topic,  ranking  it 
right  in  with  tea-roses.  In  the  hour  before 
dinner  they  went  on  'threshing  it  out'  there 
in  that  nice  luxurious  room,  and  through  the 
dinner,  too  —  a  simple,  perfect  dinner  where 
I  didn't  know  which  to  eat,  the  plates  or  the 
food,  they  was  both  so  complete.  Up  to  Proud- 
fit  House  I  can  hardly  ever  make  out  whether 
I'm  chewing  flavours  or  colours  or  shapes,  but 
I  donno  as  I  care.  Flavours,  thank  my  stars, 


76  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

aren't  the  only  things   in   life   I   know  how  to 
digest. 

"First  eager,  then  patient,  Insley  went  over 
his  ground,  setting  forth  by  line  and  by  line,  by 
vision  and  by  vision,  the  faith  that  was  in  him  — 
faith  in  human  nature  to  come  into  its  own,  faith 
in  the  life  of  a  town  to  work  into  human  life  at  its 
best.  And  always  down  the  same  road  they 
went,  they  come  a-canterin'  back  with  Alex 
Proudfit's  'Precisely.  It  is  precisely  what  is 
happening.  You  can't  force  it.  You  mustn't 
force  it.  To  do  the  best  we  can  with  ourselves 
and  to  help  up  an  under  dog  or  two  —  if  he 
deserves  it  --  that's  the  most  Nature  lets  us 
in  for.  Otherwise  she  says  :  "  Don't  meddle. 
I'm  doing  this."  And  she's  right.  We'd 
bungle  everything.  Believe  me,  my  dear  fel 
low,  our  spurts  of  civic  righteousness  and  na 
tional  reform  never  get  us  anywhere  in  the  long 
run.  In  the  long  run,  things  go  along  and  go 
along.  You  can't  stop  them.  If  you're  wise, 
you  wron't  rush  them.' 

"At  this  I  couldn't  keep  still  no  longer.  We 
was  at  the  table  then,  and  I  looked  over  to 
Alex  between  the  candlesticks  and  felt  as  if 
he  was  back  in  knickerbockers  again,  telling  me 
God  had  made  enough  ponies  so  he  could  gallop 
his  all  day  on  the  Plank  Road  if  he  wanted  to. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  77 

"'You  and  Silas  Sykes,  Alex,'  I  says,  'have 
come  to  the  same  motto.  Silas  says  Nature 
is  real  handy  about  taking  her  course  so  be 
you  don't  yank  open  cocoons  and  buds  and  like 
that.' 

"'Old  Silas,'  says  Alex.  'Lord,  is  he  still 
going  on  about  everything  ?  Old  Silas.  .  .  .' 

"'Yes,'  I  says,  'he  is.  And  so  am  I.  Out 
by  my  woodshed  I've  got  a  Greening  apple  tree. 
When  it  was  about  a  year  old  a  cow  I  used  to 
keep  browst  it  down.  It  laid  over  on  the  ground, 
broke  clean  off  all  but  one  little  side  of  bark 
that  kept  right  on  doing  business  with  sap,  .like 
it  didn't  know  its  universe  was  sat  on.  I  didn't 
get  time  for  a  week  or  two  to  grub  it  up,  and 
when  I  did  go  to  it,  I  see  it  was  still  living, 
through  that  little  pinch  of  bark.  I  liked  the 
pluck,  and  I  straightened  it  up  and  tied  it  to 
the  shed.  I  used  to  fuss  with  it  some.  Once 
in  a  storm  I  went  out  and  propped  a  dry-goods 
box  over  it.  I  kept  the  earth  rich  and  drove 
the  bugs  off.  I  kind  of  got  interested  in  seeing 
what  it  would  do  next.  What  it  done  was  to 
grow  like  all  possessed.  It  was  twenty  years 
ago  and  more  that  the  cow  come  by  it,  and  this 
year  I've  had  seven  bushels  of  Greenings  off 
that  one  tree.  Suppose  I  hadn't  tied  it  up  ? ' 

"'You'd    have    saved    yourself    no    end    of 


78  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

trouble,  dear  Calliope,'  says  Alex,  'to  say  noth 
ing  of  sparing  the  feelings  of  the  cow.' 

"'I  ain't  so  anxious  any  more,'  says  I,  'about 
sparing  folks'  feelings  as  I  am  about  sparing 
folks.  Nor  I  ain't  so  crazy  as  I  used  to  be  about 
saving  myself  trouble,  either.' 

'"Dear  Calliope,'  says  Alex,  'what  an  advo 
cate  you  are.  Won't  you  be  my  advocate  ?' 

"He  wouldn't  argue  serious  with  me  now  no 
more  than  he  would  when  he  was  in  knicker 
bockers.  But  yet  he  was  adorable.  When 
we  got  back  to  the  library,  I  went  on  finishing 
up  the  books  and  I  could  hear  him  being  ador 
able.  He  dipped  down  into  the  past  and 
brought  up  rich  things  —  off  down  old  ways  of 
life  in  the  village  that  he'd  had  a  part  in  and 
then  off  on  the  new  ways  where  his  life  had  led 
him.  Java  —  had  Insley  ever  been  in  Java  ? 
He  must  show  him  the  moonstone  he  got  there 
and  tell  him  the  story  they  told  him  about  it. 
But  the  queerest  moonstone  story  was  one  he'd 
got  in  Lucknow  —  so  he  goes  on,  and  sends 
Bayless  for  a  cabinet,  and  from  one  precious 
stone  and  another  he  just  naturally  drew  out 
romances  and  adventures,  as  if  he  was  ravelling 
the  stones  out  into  them.  And  then  he  begun 
taking  down  some  of  his  old  books.  And  when 
it  come  to  books,  the  appeal  to  Insley  was  like 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  79 

an   appeal  of    friends,    and    he    burrowed   into 
them  musty  parchments  abundant. 

"'By  George,'  Insley  says  once,  'I  didn't 
dream  there  were  such  things  in  Friendship 
Village.' 

"'Next  thing  you'll  forget  they're  in  the 
world,'  says  Alex,  significant.  '  Believe  me,  a 
man  like  you  ought  not  to  be  down  here,  or 
over  to  Indian  Mound,  either.  It's  an  economic 
waste.  Nature  has  fitted  you  for  her  glorious 
present  and  you're  living  along  about  four  dec 
ades  ago.  Don't  you  think  of  that  ?  .  .  . ' 

"Then  the  telephone  on  the  library  table 
rang  and  he  answered  a  call  from  the  city.  'Oh, 
buy  it  in,  buy  it  in,  by  all  means,'  he  directs. 
'Yes,  cable  to-night  and  buy  it  in.  That,'  he 
says,  as  he  hung  up,  'just  reminds  me.  There's 
a  first  night  in  London  to-night  that  I've  been 
promising  myself  to  see.  .  .  .  What  a  dog's 
life  a  business  man  leads.  By  the  way,'  he 
goes  on,  'I've  about  decided  to  put  in  one  of 
our  plants  around  here  somewhere  —  a  tannery, 
you  know.  I've  been  off  to-day  looking  over  sites. 
I  wonder  if  you  can't  give  me  some  information 
I'm  after  about  land  around  Indian  Mound. 
I'm  not  saying  anything  yet,  naturally — they'll 
give  other  people  a  bonus  to  establish  in  their 
midst,  but  the  smell  of  leather  is  too  much  for 


8o  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

them.  We  always  have  to  surprise  them  into 
it.  But  talk  about  the  ultimate  good  of  a  town 
...  if  a  tannery  isn't  that,  what  is  it  ?' 

"It  was  after  nine  o'clock  when  I  got  the 
books  set  right  —  I  loved  to  handle  them,  and 
there  was  some  I  always  looked  in  before  I 
put  them  up  because  some  of  the  pictures  give 
me  feelings  I  remembered,  same  as  tasting  some 
things  will  —  spearmint  and  caraway  and  co 
riander.  Insley,  of  course,  walked  down  with 
me.  Alex  wanted  to  send  us  in  the  automobile, 
but  I'm  kind  of  afraid  of  them  in  the  dark. 
I  can't  get  it  out  of  my  head  that  every  bump 
we  go  over  may  be  bones.  And  then  I  guess 
we  both  sort  of  wanted  the  walk. 

"Insley  was  like  another  man  from  the  one 
that  had  come  into  the  library  that  afternoon, 
or  had  been  talking  to  us  at  Mis'  Emmons's 
the  night  before.  Down  in  the  village,  on  Mis' 
Emmons's  hearth,  with  Robin  sitting  opposite, 
it  had  seemed  so  easy  to  know  ways  to  do,  and 
to  do  them.  Everything  seemed  possible,  as 
if  the  whole  stiff-muscled  universe  could  be 
done  things  to  if  only  everybody  would  once  say 
to  it  :  Our  universe.  But  now,  after  his  time 
with  Alex,  I  knew  how  everything  had  kind  of 
tightened,  closed  in  around  him,  shot  up  into 
high  walls.  Money,  tanneries,  big  deals  by 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  81 

cable,  moonstones  from  Java,  they  almost 
made  me  slimpse  too,  and  think,  What's  the 
use  of  believing  Alex  Proudfit  and  me  belong 
to  the  same  universe  ?  So  I  guessed  how  Insley 
was  feeling,  ready  to  believe  that  he  had  got 
showed  up  to  himself  in  his  true  light,  as  a 
young,  emotioning  creature  who  dreams  of  get 
ting  everybody  to  belong  together,  and  yet  can't 
find  no  good  way.  And  Alex  Proudfit's  parting 
words  must  of  followed  him  down  the  drive  and 
out  on  to  the  Plank  Road  :  — 

'Take  my  advice.  Don't  spend  yourself 
on  this  blessed  little  hole.  It's  dear  to  me,  but 
it  is  a  hole  ...  eh  ?  You  won't  get  any 
thanks  for  it.  Ten  to  one  they'll  turn  on  you  if 
you  try  to  be  one  of  them.  Get  out  of  here  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  be  in  the  real  world  !  This 
is  just  make-believing  —  and  really,  you  know, 
you're  too  fine  a  sort  to  throw  yourself  away 
like  this.  Old  Nature  will  take  care  of  the 
town  in  good  time  without  you.  Trust  her  !' 

"Sometimes  something  happens  to  make  the 
world  seem  different  from  what  we  thought  it 
was.  Them  times  catch  all  of  us  —  when  we 
feel  like  we'd  been  let  down  gentle  from  some 
high  foot-path  where  we'd  been  going  along, 
and  instead  had  been  set  to  walk  a  hard  road 
in  a  silence  that  pointed  its  finger  at  us.  If  we 

G 


82  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

get  really  knocked  down  sudden  from  a  high 
foot-path,  we  can  most  generally  pick  ourselves 
up  and  rally.  But  when  we've  been  let  down 
gentle  by  arguments  that  seem  convincing,  and 
by  folks  that  seem  to  know  the  world  better 
than  we  do,  then's  the  time  when  there  ain't 
much  of  any  rally  to  us.  If  we're  any  good,  I 
s'pose  we  can  climb  back  without  rallying. 
Rallying  gives  some  spring  to  the  climb,  but 
just  straight  dog-climbing  will  get  us  there,  too. 

"It  was  a  lovely  July  night,  with  June  not 
quite  out  of  the  world  yet.  There  was  that 
after-dark  light  in  the  sky  that  makes  you  feel 
that  the  sky  is  going  to  stay  lit  up  behind  and 
shining  through  all  night,  as  if  the  time  was  so 
beautiful  that  celestial  beings  must  be  staying 
awake  to  watch  it,  and  to  keep  the  sky  lit  and 
turned  down  low.  .  .  .  We  walked  along  the 
Plank  Road  pretty  still,  because  I  guessed  how 
Insley's  own  thoughts  was  conversation  enough 
for  him  ;  but  when  we  got  a  ways  down,  he  kind 
of  reached  out  with  his  mind  for  something  and 
me  being  near  by,  his  mind  clutched  at  me. 

"'What  if  it  is  so,  Miss  Marsh?'  he  says. 
'  What  if  the  only  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  tend 
to  personal  morality  and  an  occasional  lift 
to  an  under  dog  or  two  —  "if  he  deserves  it." 
What  if  that's  all  —  thev  meant  us  to  do  ?' 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  83 

"It's  awful  hard  giving  a  reason  for  your 
chief  notions.  It's  like  describing  a  rose  by  the 
tape-measure. 

"'Shucks!'  I  says  only.  'Look  up  at  the  stars. 
I  don't  believe  it.' 

"He  laughed  a  little,  and  he  did  look  up  at 
them,  but  still  I  knew  how  he  felt.  And  even 
the  stars  that  night  looked  awful  detached  and 
able  to  take  care  of  themselves.  And  they  were 
a-shining  down  on  the  Plank  Road  that  would 
get  to  be  Daphne  Street  and  go  about  its  busi 
ness  of  leading  to  private  homes  —  private 
homes.  The  village,  that  little  cluster  of  lights 
ahead  there,  seemed  just  shutting  anybody  else 
out,  going  its  own  way,  kind  of  mocking  any 
body  for  any  idea  of  getting  really  inside  it. 
It  was  plain  enough  that  Insley  had  nothing  to 
hope  for  from  Alex  Proudfit.  And  Alex's  serene 
sureness  that  Nature  needed  nobody  to  help, 
his  real  self-satisfied  looking  on  at  processes 
which  no  man  could  really  hurry  up  —  my, 
but  they  made  you  feel  cheap,  and  too  many 
of  yourself,  and  like  none  of  you  had  a  license 
to  take  a-hold.  For  a  second  I  caught  myself 
wondering.  Maybe  Nature  —  stars  and  streets 
and  processes  —  could  work  it  out  without  us. 

"Something  come  against  my  foot.  I  pushed 
at  it,  and  then  bent  over  and  touched  it.  It 


84  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

was  warm  and  yieldy,  and  I  lifted  it  up.  And 
it  was  a  puppy  that  wriggled  its  body  un 
believable  and  flopped  on  to  my  arm  its  inch  and 
a  quarter  of  tail. 

"'Look  at,'  I  says  to  Insley,  which,  of  course, 
he  couldn't  do ;  but  I  put  the  little  thing  over 
into  his  hands. 

"'Well,  little  brother,'  says  he.  'Running 
away  ?' 

"We  was  just  in  front  of  the  Cadozas', 
a  tumble-down  house  halfway  between  Proud- 
fit  House  and  the  village.  It  looked  like  the 
puppy  might  belong  there,  so  we  turned  in  there 
with  it.  I'd  always  sort  of  dreaded  the  house, 
setting  in  back  among  lilacs  and  locusts  and 
never  lit  up.  When  I  stopped  to  think  of  it, 
I  never  seemed  to  remember  much  about  those 
lilacs  and  locusts  blooming  —  I  suppose  they 
did,  but  nobody  caught  them  at  it  often.  Some 
houses  you  always  think  of  with  their  lilacs  and 
locusts  and  wisteria  and  hollyhocks  going  all 
the  time ;  and  some  you  never  seem  to  connect 
up  with  being  in  bloom  at  all.  Some  houses 
you  always  seem  to  think  of  as  being  lit  up  to 
most  of  their  windows,  and  some  you  can't 
call  to  mind  as  showing  any  way  but  dark. 
The  Cadozas'  was  one  of  the  unblossoming, 
dark  kind,  and  awful  ramshackle,  besides.  I 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  85 

always  use'  to  think  it  looked  like  it  was  wait 
ing  for  some  kind  of  happening,  I  didn't  know 
what.  And  sometimes  when  I  come  by  there 
in  the  dark,  I  used  to  think :  It  ain't  happened 
yet. 

"We  went  around  to  the  back  door  to  rap, 
and  Mis'  Cadoza  opened  it  —  a  slovenly  look 
ing  woman  she  is,  with  no  teeth  much,  and 
looking  like  what  hair  she's  got  is  a  burden  to 
her.  I  remember  how  she  stood  there  against 
a  background  of  mussy  kitchen  that  made  you 
feel  as  if  you'd  turned  something  away  wrong 
side  out  to  where  it  wasn't  meant  to  be  looked 
at. 

"'Is  it  yours,  Mis'  Cadoza  ?'  I  says,  Insley 
holding  out  the  puppy. 

"'Murder,  it's  Patsy,'  says  Mis'  Cadoza. 
'Give  'm  here  —  he  must  of  followed  Spudge 
off.  Oh,  it's  you,  Miss  Marsh.' 

"Over  by  the  cook  stove  in  the  corner  I  see 
past  her  to  something  that  made  me  bound  to 
go  inside  a  minute.  It  was  a  bed,  all  frowzy 
and  tumbled,  and  in  it  was  laying  a  little  boy. 

:'Why,'  I  says,  'I  heard  Eph  was  in  bed. 
What's  the  matter  with  him  ?'  And  I  went 
right  in,  past  his  mother,  like  I  was  a  born  guest. 
She  drew  off,  sort  of  grudging  —  she  never  liked 
any  of  us  to  go  there,  except  when  some  of  them 


86  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

died,  which  they  was  always  doing.  'Come 
in  and  see  Eph,  Mr.  Insley,'  I  says,  and  intro 
duced  him. 

"The  little  boy  wasn't  above  eight  years  old 
and  he  wasn't  above  six  years  big.  .  .  .  He  was 
laying  real  still,  with  his  arms  out  of  bed,  and  his 
little  thin  hands  flat  down  on  the  dark  covers. 
His  eyes,  looking  up  at  us,  watching,  made  me 
think  of  some  trapped  thing. 

"'Well,  little  brother,'  says  Insley,  'what's  the 
trouble  ? ' 

"Mis'  Cadoza  come  and  stood  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed  and  jerked  at  the  top  covers. 

"'I've  put  him  in  the  bed,'  she  says,  'because 
I'm  wore  out  lifting  him  around.  An'  I've 
got  the  bed  out  here  because  I  can't  trapse 
back  an'  forth  waitin'  on  him.' 

"'Is  he  a  cripple  ?'  asks  Insley,  low.  I  liked 
so  much  to  hear  his  voice  —  it  was  as  if  it  lifted 
and  lowered  itself  in  his  throat  without  his 
bothering  to  tell  it  which  kind  it  was  time  to  do. 
And  I  never  heard  his  voice  make  a  mistake. 

'"Cripple  ?'  says  Mis'  Cadoza,  in  her  kind 
of  undressed  voice.  'No.  He  fell  in  a  tub  of 
hot  water  years  ago,  and  his  left  leg  is  wither- 
in'  up.' 

'"Let  me  see  it,'  says  Insley,  and  pulled  the 
covers  back  without  waiting. 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  87 

"There  ain't  nothing  more  wonderful  than 
a  strong,  capable,  quick  human  hand  doing 
something  it  knows  how  to  do.  Insley's  hands 
touched  over  the  poor  little  leg  of  the  child 
until  I  expected  to  see  it  get  well  right  there 
under  his  fingers.  He  felt  the  cords  of  the  knee 
and  then  looked  up  at  the  mother. 

"'Haven't  they  told  you,'  he  says,  'that  if 
he  has  an  operation  on  his  knee,  you  can  have 
a  chance  at  saving  the  leg  ?  I  knew  a  case 
very  like  this  where  the  leg  was  saved.' 

"'I  ain't  been  to  see  nobody  about  it,'  says 
Mis'  Cadoza,  leaving  her  mouth  open  after 
wards,  like  she  does.  '  What's  the  good  ?  I 
can't  pay  for  no  operation  on  him.  I  got  all 
I  can  do  to  keep  'm  alive.' 

"Eph  moved  a  little,  and  something  fell 
down  on  the  floor.  Mis'  Cadoza  pounced  on 
it. 

"'Ain't  I  forbid  you  ?'  she  says,  angry,  and 
held  out  to  us  what  she'd  picked  up  —  a  little 
dab  of  wet  earth.  'He  digs  up  all  my  house 
plants,'  she  scolds,  like  some  sort  of  machinery 
grating  down  on  one  place  continual,  'an'  he 
hauls  the  dirt  out  and  lays  there  an'  makes 
figgers.  The  idear !  Gettin'  the  sheets  a 
sight.  .  .  .' 

"The  child  looked  over  at  us,   defiant.     He 


88  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

spoke  for  the  first  time,  and  I  was  surprised  to 
hear  how  kind  of  grown-up  his  voice  was. 

'"I  can  get  'em  to  look  like  faces,'  he  says. 
'I  don't  care  what  she  says.' 

'"Show  us,'  commands  Insley. 

"He  got  back  the  bit  of  earth  from  Mis' 
Cadoza,  and  found  a  paper  for  the  crumbs, 
and  pillowed  the  boy  up  and  sat  beside  him. 
The  thin,  dirty  little  hands  went  to  work  as 
eager  as  birds  pecking,  and  on  the  earth  that 
he  packed  in  his  palm  he  made,  with  his  thumb 
nail  and  a  pen  handle  from  under  his  pillow, 
a  face  —  a  boy's  face,  that  had  in  it  something 
that  looked  at  you.  l  But  I  can  never  get  'em 
to  look  the  same  way  two  times,'  he  says  to  us, 
shy. 

"'He's  most  killed  my  Lady  Washington 
geranium  draggin'  the  clay  out  from  under  the 
roots,'  Mis'  Cadoza  put  in,  resentful. 

"Insley  sort  of  sweeps  around  and  looks 
acrost  at  her,  deep  and  gentle,  and  like  he  under 
stood  about  her  boy  and  her  geranium  consider 
able  better  than  she  did. 

"'He  won't  do  it  any  more,'  he  says.  'He'll 
have  something  better. ' 

"The  boy  looked  up  at  him.  'What?'  he 
asks. 

"'Clay,'  says  Insley,  'in  a  box.     With  things 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  89 

for  you  to  make  the  clay  like.     Do  you  want 
that?' 

"The  boy  kind  of  curled  down  in  his  pillow 
and  come  as  near  to  shuffling  as  he  could  in  the 
bed,  and  he  hadn't  an  idea  what  to  say.  But 
I  tell  you,  his  eyes,  they  wasn't  like  any  trapped 
thing  any  more ;  they  was  regular  boy's  eyes, 
lit  up  about  something. 

"'Mrs.  Cadoza,'  Insley  says,  'will  you  do 
something  for  me  ?  We're  trying  to  get  to 
gether  a  little  shrubbery,  over  at  the  college. 
May  I  come  in  and  get  some  lilac  roots  from 
you  some  day? ' 

"  Mis'  Cadoza  looked  at  him  —  and  looked.  I 
don't  s'pose  it  had  ever  come  to  her  before  that 
anybody  would  want  anything  she  had  or  any 
thing  she  could  do. 

*  Why,  sure,'  she  says,  only.    *  Sure,  you  can, 
Mr.  What's-name.' 

"And  then  Insley  put  out  his  hand,  and  she 
took  it,  I  noted  special.  I  donno  as  I  ever 
see  anybody  shake  hands  with  her  before,  excep' 
when  somebody  was  gettin'  buried  out  of  her 
house. 

"When  we  got  out  on  the  road  again,  I  no 
ticed  that  Insley  went  swinging  along  so's  I 
could  hardly  keep  up  with  him ;  and  he  done 
it  sort  of  automatic,  and  like  it  was  natural 


90  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

to  him.  I  didn't  say  anything.  If  I've  learned 
one  thing  living  out  and  in  among  human  beings, 
it's  that  if  you  don't  do  your  own  keeping  still 
at  the  right  time,  nobody  else  is  going  to  do  it 
for  you.  He  spoke  up  after  a  minute  like  I 
thought  he  would  ;  and  he  spoke  up  buoyant  — 
kind  of  a  reverent  buoyant :  — 

"'I  don't  believe  we're  discharged  from  the 
universe,  after  all,'  he  says,  and  laughed  a  little. 
'I  believe  we've  still  got  our  job.' 

"I  looked  'way  down  the  Plank  Road,  on  its 
way  to  its  business  of  being  Daphne  Street, 
and  it  come  to  me  that  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other  stopped  in  Friendship  Village.  But  they 
led  on  out,  down  past  the  wood  lots  and  the 
Pump  pasture  and  across  the  tracks  and  up 
the  hill,  and  right  off  into  that  sky  that  some 
body  was  keeping  lit  up  and  turned  down  low. 
And  I  said  something  that  I'd  thought  before  : 

"'Ain't  it,'  I  says,  'like  sometimes  everybody 
in  the  world  come  and  stood  right  close  up 
beside  of  you,  and  spoke  through  the  walls  of 
you  for  something  inside  of  you  to  come  out 
and  be  there  with  them  ?' 

'"That's  it,'  he  says,  only.  'That's  it.'  But 
I  see  his  mind  nipped  onto  what  mine  meant, 
and  tied  it  in  the  right  place. 

"When  we  got  to  Mis'  Emmons's  corner,  I 


turned  off  from  Daphne  Street  to  go  that  way, 
because  I'd  told  her  I'd  look  in  that  night  and 
see  what  they'd  bought  in  town.  It  was  late, 
for  the  village,  but  Mis'  Emmons  never  minded 
that.  The  living-room  light  was  showing 
through  the  curtains,  and  Insley,  saying  good 
night  to  me,  looked  towards  the  windows  awful 
wistful.  I  guessed  why.  It  was  part  because 
he  felt  as  if  he  must  see  Robin  Sidney  and  they 
must  talk  over  together  what  Alex  Proudfit 
had  said  to  him.  And  part  it  was  just  plain 
because  he  wanted  to  see  her  again. 

'"Why  don't  you  come  in  a  minute,'  I  says, 
'and  ask  after  Christopher  ?  Then  you  can  see 
me  home.' 

'"Wouldn't  they  mind  it  being  late  ?'  he 
asks. 

"I  couldn't  help  smiling  at  that.  Once 
Mis'  Emmons  had  called  us  all  up  by  telephone 
at  ten  o'clock  at  night  to  invite  us  to  her  house 
two  days  later.  She  explained  afterwards  that 
she  hadn't  looked  at  the  clock  for  a  week,  but 
if  she  had,  she  might  have  called  us  just  the  same. 
'For  my  life,'  she  says,  'I  can't  be  afraid  of  ten 
o'clock.  Indeed,  I  rather  like  it.'  I  told  him 
this,  while  we  was  walking  in  from  her  gate. 

'"Mrs.  Emmons,'  he  says,  when  she  come  to 
the  door,  'I've  come  because  I  hear  that  you 


92  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

like  ten  o'clock,  and  so  do  I.  I  wanted  to 
ask  if  you've  ever  been  able  to  make  it  last  ?' 

"'No,'  she  says.  'I  prefer  a  new  one  every 
night  —  and  this  one  to-night  is  an  exception 
ally  good  one.' 

"She  always  answered  back  so  pretty.  I  feel 
glad  when  folks  can.  It's  like  they  had  an 
extra  brain  to  'em. 

"Insley  went  in,  and  he  sort  of  filled  up  the 
whole  room,  the  way  some  men  do.  He  wasn't 
so  awful  big,  either.  But  he  was  pervading. 
Christopher  had  gone  to  bed,  and  Robin  Sidney 
was  sitting  there  near  a  big  crock  of  hollyhocks 
-  she  could  make  the  centre  and  life  of  a  room 
a  crock  full  of  flowers  just  as  you  can  make  it  a 
fireplace. 

"'Come  in,'  she  says,  *  and  see  what  we 
bought  Christopher.  I  wanted  to  put  him  in 
black  velvet  knickerbockers  or  silver  armour, 
but  Aunt  Eleanor  has  bought  chiefly  khaki 
middies.  She's  such  a  sensible  relative.' 

"'What  are  we  going  to  do  with  him  ?' 
Insley  asks.  I  loved  the  way  he  always  said 
'we'  about  everything.  Not  'they'  or  'you,' 
but  always,  '  What  are  we  going  to  do.' 

"'I'll  keep  him  awhile,'  Mis'  Emmons  says, 
1  and  see  what  develops.  If  I  weren't  going  to 
Europe  this  fall  —  but  something  may  happen. 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  93 

Things  do.  Calliope,'  she  says  to  me,  'did  I 
buy  what  I  ought  to  have  bought  ?' 

"I  went  over  to  see  the  things  spread  out  on 
the  table,  and  Insley  turned  round  to  where 
Robin  was.  I  don't  really  believe  he  had  been 
very  far  away  from  where  she  was  since  the 
night  before,  when  Christopher  come.  And 
he  got  right  into  what  he  had  to  say,  like  he 
was  impatient  for  the  sympathy  in  her  eyes 
and  in  her  voice. 

"'I  must  tell  you,'  he  says.  'I  could  hardly 
wait  to  tell  you.  Isn't  it  great  to  be  knocked 
down  and  picked  up  again,  without  having 
to  get  back  on  your  own  feet.  I  —  wanted 
to  tell  you.' 

'"Tell  me,'  she  says.  And  she  looked  at  him 
in  her  nice,  girl  way  that  lent  him  her  eyes  in 
good  faith  for  just  a  minute  and  then  took  them 
back  again. 

'"I've  been  to  see  Alex  Proudfit,'  he  said. 
'I've  dined  with  him.' 

"I  don't  think  she  said  anything  at  all,  but 
Insley  went  on,  absorbed  in  what  he  was  saying. 

'"I  talked  with  him,'  he  says,  'about  what 
we  talked  of  last  night  —  the  things  to  do,  here 
in  the  village.  I  thought  he  might  care  -  -  I 
was  foolish  enough  for  that.  Have  you  ever 
tried  to  open  a  door  in  a  solid  wall  ?  When 


94  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

I  left  there,  I  felt  as  if  I'd  tried  just  that.  Seri 
ously,  have  you  ever  tried  to  talk  about  the 
way  things  are  going  to  be  and  to  talk  about  it 
to  a  perfectly  satisfied  man  ?' 

"Robin  leaned  forward,  but  I  guess  he  thought 
that  was  because  of  her  sympathy.  He  went 
right  on  :  - 

'"I  want  never  to  speak  of  this  to  anyone 
else,  but  I  can't  help  telling  you.  You  - 
understand.  You  know  what  I'm  driving  at. 
Alex  Proudfit  is  a  good  man  —  as  men  are 
counted  good.  And  he's  a  perfect  host,  a  fasci 
nating  companion.  But  he's  a  type  of  the  most 
dangerous  selfishness  that  walks  the  world  —  ' 

"Robin  suddenly  laid  her  hand,  just  for  a 
flash,  on  Insley's  arm. 

"  'You  mustn't  tell  me,'  she  says.  'I  ought  to 
have  told  you  before.  Alex  Proudfit --I'm 
going  to  be  Alex  Proudfit's  wife.' 


"!N  the  next  days  things  happened  that  none 
of  us  Friendship  Village  ladies  is  likely  ever  to 
forget.  Some  of  the  things  was  nice  and  some 
was  exciting,  and  some  was  the  kind  that's 
nice  after  you've  got  the  introduction  wore  off ; 
but  all  of  them  was  memorable.  And  most  all 
of  them  was  the  kind  that  when  you'  re  on  the 
train  looking  out  the  car  window,  or  when  you're 
home  sitting  in  the  dusk  before  it's  time  to 
light  the  lamp,  you  fall  to  thinking  about  and 
smiling  over,  and  you  have  them  always  around 
with  you,  same  as  heirlooms  you've  got  ready  for 
yourself. 

"One  of  these  was  the  Fourth  of  July  that 
year.  It  fell  a  few  days  after  Alex  Proudfit 
come,  and  the  last  of  the  days  was  full  of  his 
guests  arriving  to  the  house  party.  The  two 
Proudfit  cars  was  racking  back  and  forth  to 
the  station  all  day  long,  and  Jimmy  Sturgis, 
he  went  near  crazy  with  getting  the  baggage  up. 
I  never  see  such  a  lot  of  baggage.  'Land,  land,' 
says  Mis'  Toplady,  peeking  out  her  window  at 
it,  'you'd  think  they  was  all  trees  and  they'd 

9S 


96  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

come  bringing  extra  sets  of  branches,  regular 
forest  size.'  Mis'  Emmons  and  Robin  and 
Christopher  went  up  the  night  before  the  Fourth 
—  Mis'  Emmons  was  going  to  do  the  chaperon 
ing,  and  Alex  had  asked  me  to  be  up  there  all  I 
could  to  help  him.  He  knows  how  I  love  to  have 
a  hand  in  things.  However,  I  couldn't  be  there 
right  at  first,  because  getting  ready  for  the 
Fourth  of  July  was  just  then  in  full  swing. 

"Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  want  to  do  over 
again  something  that  you  ain't  done  for  years 
and  years  ?  I  don't  care  what  it  is  —  whether 
it's  wanting  to  be  back  sitting  around  the  dinner 
table  of  your  home  when  you  was  twelve,  and 
them  that  was  there  aren't  there  now ;  or 
whether  it's  rocking  in  the  cool  of  the  day  on  the 
front  porch  of  some  old  house  that  got  tore  down 
long  ago ;  or  whether  it's  walking  along  a  road 
you  use'  to  know  every  fence  post  of ;  or  fishing 
from  a  stream  that's  dried  up  or  damned  these 
twenty  years  ;  or  eating  spice'  currants  or  pickle' 
peaches  that  there  aren't  none  put  up  like  them 
now ;  or  hearing  a  voice  in  a  glee  club  that  don't 
sing  no  more,  or  milking  a  dead  cow  that  wasn't 
dead  on  the  spring  mornings  you  mean  about  — 
no,  sir,  I  don't  care  what  one  of  them  all  it 
happens  to  be,  if  you  know  what  it  is  to  want  to 
do  it  again  and  can't,  'count  of  death  and  dis- 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  97 

tance  and  long-ago-ness,  then  I  tell  you  you  know 
one  of  the  lonesomest,  hurtingest  feelings  the 
human  heart  can,  sole  outside  of  the  awful 
things.  And  that  was  what  had  got  the  matter 
with  me  awhile  ago. 

"It  had  come  on  me  in  the  meeting  of  towns 
people  called  by  Silas  Sykes  a  few  weeks  before, 
to  discuss  how  Friendship  Village  should  cele 
brate  the  Fourth.  We  hadn't  had  a  Fourth  in 
the  village  in  years.  Seeing  the  Fourth  and  the 
Cemetery  was  so  closely  connected,  late  years, 
Sodality  had  took  a  hand  in  the  matter  and  had 
got  fire-crackers  and  pistols  voted  out  of  town, 
part  by  having  family  fingers  blowed  off  and 
clothes  scorched  full  of  holes,  and  part  through 
Silas  and  the  other  dealers  admitting  they  wan't 
no  money  in  the  stuff  and  they'd  be  glad  to  be 
prevented  by  law  from  having  to  sell  it.  So  we 
shut  down  on  it  the  year  after  little  Spudge 
Cadoza  bit  down  on  a  cap  to  see  if  it'd  go  off, 
and  it  done  so.  But  we  see  we'd  made  the 
mistake  of  not  hatching  up  something  to  take 
the  place  of  the  noise,  because  the  boys  and  girls 
all  went  off  to  the  next-town  Fourths  and  come 
home  blowed  up  and  scorched  off,  anyway. 
And  some  of  the  towns,  especially  Red  Barns, 
that  we  can  see  from  Friendship  Village  when 
it's  clear,  was  feeling  awful  touchy  and  chip- 


98  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

shouldered  towards  us,  and  their  two  weekly 
papers  was  saying  we  borrowed  our  year's  supply 
of  patriotism  off  the  county,  and  sponged  on 
public  spirit,  and  like  that.  So  the  general 
Friendship  feeling  was  that  we'd  ought  to  have 
a  doings  this  year,  and  Postmaster  Sykes,  that 
ain't  so  much  public  spirited  as  he  is  professional 
leading  citizen, —  platform  introducer  of  all  visit 
ing  orators  and  so  on, —  he  called  a  mass-meeting 
to  decide  what  to  do. 

"  Mis'  Sykes,  she  was  awful  interested,  too, 
through  being  a  born  leader  and  up  in  arms  most 
of  the  time  to  do  something  new.  And  this  year 
she  was  anxious  to  get  up  something  fancy  to 
impress  her  niece  with  --  the  new  niece  that  was 
coming  to  visit  her,  and  that  none  of  us  had  ever 
see,  and  that  the  Sykes's  themselves  had  only 
just  developed.  Seems  she  was  looking  for  her 
family  tree  and  she  wrote  to  Mis'  Sykes  about 
being  connect'.  And  the  letter  seemed  so  swell, 
and  the  address  so  mouth-melting  and  stylish 
that  Mis'  Sykes  up  and  invited  her  to  Friendship 
Village  to  look  herself  up  in  their  Bible,  Born 
and  Died  part. 

"The  very  night  of  that  public  mass-meeting 
Miss  Beryl  Sessions  —  such  was  the  niece's  name 
—  come  in  on  the  Through,  and  Mis'  Sykes,  she 
snapped  her  up  from  the  supper  table  to  bring 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  99 

her  to  the  meeting  and  show  her  off,  all  brim 
ming  with  the  blood-is-thicker-than-water  senti 
ments  due  to  a  niece  that  looked  like  that.  For 
I  never  see  sweller.  And  being  in  the  Glee  Club 
I  set  where  I  got  a  good  view  when  Mis'  Sykes 
rustled  into  the  meeting,  last  minute,  in  her 
best  black  cashmere,  though  it  was  an  occasion 
when  the  rest  of  us  would  wear  our  serges  and 
alapacas,  and  Mis'  Sykes  knew  it.  All  us 
ladies  see  them  both  and  took  in  every  stitch 
they  had  on  without  letting  on  to  unpack  a 
glance,  and  we  see  that  the  niece  was  wearing 
the  kind  of  a  dress  that  was  to  ours  what  mince- 
pie  is  to  dried  apple,  and  I  couldn't  blame  Mis' 
Sykes  for  showing  her  off,  human. 

"  Silas  had  had  Dr.  June  open  the  meeting  with 
prayer,  and  I  can't  feel  that  this  was  so  much 
reverence  in  Silas  as  that  he  isn't  real  parlia 
mentary  nor  yet  real  knowledgeable  about  what 
to  do  with  his  hands,  and  prayer  sort  of  broke  the 
ice  for  him.  That's  the  way  Silas  is. 

"'Folks,'  says  he,  'we're  here  to  consider  the 
advisability  of  bein'  patriotic  this  year.  Of 
having  a  doings  that'll  shame  the  other  towns 
around  for  their  half-an'-half  way  of  giving 
things.  Of  making  the  glorious  Fourth  a  real 
business  bringer.  Of  having  a  speech  that'll 
bring  in  the  country  trade --the  Honourable 


ioo  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

Thaddeus  Hyslop  has  been  named  by  some. 
And  of  getting  our  city  put  in  the  class  of  the 
wide  awake  and  the  hustlers  and  the  up-to-date 
and  doing.  It's  a  grand  chance  we've  passed 
up  for  years.  What  are  we  going  to  do  for  our 
selves  this  year  ?  To  decide  it  is  the  purpose 
of  this  mass-meetin'.  Sentiments  are  now  in 
order.' 

"Silas  set  down  with  a  kitterin'  glance  to  his 
new  niece  that  he  was  host  and  uncle  of  and 
pleased  to  be  put  in  a  good  light  before,  first 
thing  so. 

"  Several  men  hopped  up  -  -  Timothy  Top- 
lady  saying  that  Friendship  Village  was  a  city 
in  all  but  name  and  numbers,  and  why  not  prove 
it  to  the  other  towns  ?  Jimmy  Sturgis  that  takes 
tintypes,  besides  running  the  'bus  and  was  all 
primed  fora  day  full  of  both — 'Aglorious  Fourth,' 
says  he,  'would  be  money  in  our  pockets.'  And 
the  farm  machinery  and  furniture  dealers, 
and  Gekerjeck,  that  has  the  drug  store  and  the 
ice-cream  fountain,  and  others,  they  spoke  the 
same.  Insley  had  to  be  to  the  college  that  night, 
or  I  don't  believe  the  meeting  would  have  gone 
the  way  it  did  go.  For  the  first  line  and  chorus 
of  everything  that  all  the  men  present  said 
never  varied  :  — 

'"The  Fourth  for  a  business  bringer.' 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  101 

"It  was  Threat  Hubbelthwait  that  finally 
made  the  motion,  and  he  wasn't  real  sober,  like 
he  usually  ain't,  but  he  wound  up  on  the  key 
note  :  — 

"'I  sold  two  hundred  and  four  lunches  the 
last  Fourth  we  hed  in  Friendship  Village,'  says 
he,  pounding  his  palm  with  his  fist,  'an'  I  move 
you  that  we  celebrate  this  comin'  Fourth  like 
the  blazes.' 

"And  though  Silas  softened  it  down  some 
in  putting  it,  still  that  was  substantially  the 
sentiment  that  went  through  at  that  mass- 
meeting,  that  was  real  pleased  with  itself  be 
cause  of. 

"Well,  us  ladies  hadn't  taken  no  part.  It 
ain't  our  custom  to  appear  much  on  our  feet  at 
public  gatherings,  unless  to  read  reports  of  a 
year's  work,  and  so  that  night  we  never  moved 
a  motion.  But  we  looked  at  each  other,  and  us 
ladies  has  got  so  we  understand  each  other's 
eyebrows.  And  we  knew,  one  and  all,  that  we 
was  ashamed  of  the  men  and  ashamed  of 
their  sentiments.  But  the  rest  didn't  like  to 
speak  out,  'count  of  being  married  to  them.  And 
I  didn't  like  to,  'count  of  not  being. 

"But  when  they  got  to  discussing  ways  and 
means  of  celebrating,  a  woman  did  get  onto  her 
feet,  and  a  little  lilt  of  interest  run  round  the 


102  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

room  like  wind.  It  was  Miss  Beryl  Sessions, 
the  niece,  that  stood  up  like  you'd  unwrapped 
your  new  fashion  magazine  and  unrolled  her  off'n 
the  front  page. 

"'I  wonder,'  says  she — and  her  voice  went 
all  sweet  and  chirpy  and  interested,  'whether 
it  would  amuse  you  to  know  some  ways  we 
took  to  celebrate  the  Fourth  of  July  last  year  at 
home  .  .  .'  and  while  the  men  set  paying  at 
tention  to  her  appearance  and  thinking  they  was 
paying  attention  to  her  words  alone,  she  went  on 
to  tell  them  how  'at  home'  the  whole  town  had 
joined  in  a  great,  Fourth  of  July  garden  party  on 
the  village  'common,'  with  a  band  and  lanterns 
and  fireworks  at  night,  and  a  big  marquee  in  the 
middle,  full  of  ice-cream.  We  made  it,'  she 
wound  up,  'a  real  social  occasion,  a  town  party 
with  everybody  invited.  And  the  business 
houses  said  that  it  paid  them  over  and  over.' 

"Well,  of  course  that  went  with  the  men. 
Land,  but  men  is  easy  tamed,  so  be  the  tameress 
is  somebody  they  ain't  used  to  and  is  gifted  with 
a  good  dress  and  a  kind  of  a  'scalloped  air.  'But 
when  she  also  has  some  idea  of  business  they  go 
down  and  don't  know  it.  'Why,  I  should  think 
that'd  take  here  like  a  warm  meal,'  says  Timothy 
Toplady,  instant  —  and  I  see  Mis'  Amanda 
Toplady's  chin  come  home  to  place  like  she'd 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  103 

heard  Timothy  making  love  to  another  woman. 
'Novel  as  the  dickens,'  says  Simon  Gekerjeck. 
'Move  we  adopt  it.'  And  so  they  done. 

"While  they  was  appointing  committees  I 
set  up  there  in  the  Glee  Club  feeling  blacker 
and  blacker.  Coming  down  to  the  meeting 
that  night,  I  recollect  I'd  been  extra  gentle  in 
my  mind  over  the  whole  celebration  idea. 
Walking  along  in  the  seven-o'clock  light,  with 
the  sun  shining  east  on  Daphne  Street  and  folks 
all  streaming  to  the  town-meeting,  and  me 
sensing  what  it  was  going  to  be  for,  I'd  got 
all  worked  up  to  'most  a  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence  lump  in  my  throat.  When  I  went 
in  the  door  to  the  meeting,  little  Spudge  Ca- 
doza  and  some  other  children  was  hanging 
around  the  steps  and  Silas  Sykes  was  driving 
them  away ;  and  it  come  to  me  how  deathly 
ridiculous  that  was,  to  be  driving  children  away 
from  a  meeting  like  that,  when  children  is  what 
such  meetings  is  for;  and  I'd  got  to  thinking 
of  all  the  things  Insley  was  hoping  for  us,  and 
I'd  been  real  lifted  up  on  to  places  for  glory. 
And  here  down  had  come  the  men  with  their  talk 
about  a  paying  Fourth,  and  here  was  Miss  Beryl 
Sessions  showing  us  how  to  celebrate  in  a  way 
that  seemed  to  me  real  sweet  but  not  so  very 
patriotic.  It  was  then  that  all  of  a  sudden  it 


104  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

seemed  to  me  I'd  die,  because  I  wanted  so  much 
to  feel  the  way  I'd  use  to  feel  when  it  was  going 
to  be  the  Fourth  o'  July.  And  when  they 
sung  '  Star  Spangled  Banner  '  to  go  home  on  and 
all  stood  up  to  the  sentiment,  I  couldn't  open  my 
mouth.  I  can't  go  folks  that  stands  up  and 
carols  national  tunes  and  then  talks  about  having 
a  Fourth  that'll  be  a  real  business  bringer. 

'"What'd  you  think  of  the  meeting?'  says 
Mis'  Toplady,  low,  to  me  on  the  way  out. 

"'I  think,'  says  I,  frank,  'it  was  darn.' 

'"There's  just  exactly  what  we  all  think,' 
says  Mis'  Toplady,  in  a  whisper. 

"But  all  the  same,  preparations  was  gone  into 
head  first.  Most  of  us  was  put  on  to  from  one 
to  five  committees  --  I  mean  most  of  them  that 
works.  The  rest  of  the  town  was  setting  by, 
watching  it  be  done  for  them,  serene  or  snarl 
ing,  according  to  their  lights.  Of  course  us 
ladies  worked,  not  being  them  that  goes  to  a 
meeting  an'  sets  with  their  mouths  shut  and 
then  comes  out  and  kicks  at  what  the  meetin' 
done.  Yet,  though  we  wan't  made  out  of  that 
kind  of  meal,  we  spoke  our  minds  to  each  other, 
private. 

"'What  under  the  canopy  is  a  marquee?' 
asks  Mis'  Amanda  Toplady,  when  we  met  at 
her  house  to  plan  about  refreshments. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  105 

"Mis'  Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss  spoke 
right  up. 

"'Why,  it's  a  finger  ring,'  she  says.  'One 
of  them  with  stones  running  the  long  way.  The 
minister's  wife's  got  a  blue  stone  one.  .  .  .' 

'"Finger  ring!'  says  Mis'  Mayor  Uppers, 
scornful.  'It's  a  title.  That's  what  it  is.  From 
England.' 

"We  looked  at  them  both,  perplexish.  Mis' 
Holcomb  is  always  up  on  things  —  it  was  her 
that  went  into  short  sleeves  when  the  rest  of 
us  was  still  crocheting  cuff  turnovers,  uncon 
scious  as  the  dead.  But  Mis'  Uppers  had  been 
the  Mayor's  wife,  and  though  he'd  run  away, 
'count  o'  some  money  matter,  still  a  title  is  a 
title,  an'  we  thought  Mis'  Uppers  had  ought  to 
know. 

"Then  Abagail  Arnold,  that  keeps  the  home 
bakery,  she  spoke  up  timid.  'I  see,'  she  says, 
'in  the  Caterer's  Gazette  a  picture  called 
"Marquee  Decorated  for  Fete."  The  picture 
wan't  nothing  but  a  striped  tent.  Could  a  tent 
have  anything  to  do  with  it  ?' 

"Pity  sakes,  no,'  says  Mis'  Uppers.  'This 
is  somethin'  real  city  done,  Abagail.' 

"We  worked  on  what  we  could,  but  we  all  felt 
kind  of  lost  and  left  out  of  it,  and  like  we  was 
tinkering  with  tools  we  didn't  know  the  names 


106  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

of  and  a-making  something  we  wasn't  going  to 
know  how  to  use.  And  when  the  article  about 
our  Fourth  flared  out  in  the  Friendship  Daily 
and  Red  Barns  and  Indian  Mound  weeklies, 
we  felt  worse  than  we  had  before:  'Garden 
Party.'  'All  Day  Fete.'  'Al  Fresco  Celebra 
tion,'  the  editors  had  wrote  it  up. 

"'All  what?"*  says  Mis'  Uppers,  listening  ir 
ritable  to  the  last  one.  '  I  can't  catch  that  word 
no  more'n  a  rabbit.' 

'"It's  a  French  word,'  Mis'  Holcomb  told  her, 
superior.  'Seems  to  me  I've  heard  it  means  a 
failure.  It's  a  funny  way  to  put  it,  ain't  it  ? 
I  bet,  though,  that's  what  it'll  be.' 

"But  the  men,  my,  the  men  thought  they  was 
doing  things  right.  The  Committee  on  Orator, 
with  Silas  for  rudder,  had  voted  itself  Fifty 
Dollars  to  squander  on  the  speech,  and  they  had 
engaged  the  Honourable  Thaddeus  Hyslop,  that 
they'd  hoped  to,  and  that  was  formerly  in  our 
legislature,  to  be  the  orator  of  the  day ;  they 
put  up  a  platform  and  seats  on  the  'common' 
-that  wan't  nothing  but  the  market  where 
loads  of  wood  stood  to  be  sold ;  they  was 
a-going  to  cut  evergreens  and 'plant  them  there 
for  the  day ;  the  Committee  'on  Fireworks  was 
a-going  to  buy  set  pieces  for  the  evening ;  they 
was  a-going  to  raise  Ned.  Somebody  that  was  on 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  107 

one  of  the  committees  wanted  to  have  some  sort 
of  historic  scenes,  but  the  men  wouldn't  hear  to  it, 
because  that  would  take  away  them  that  had  to 
do  the  business  in  the  stores  ;  no  caluthumpians, 
no  grand  basket  dinner  --  just  the  garden  party, 
real  sweet,  with  Miss  Beryl  Sessions  and  a 
marquee  full  of  ice-cream  that  the  ladies  was 
to  make. 

"It  sounds  sort  of  sacrilegious  to  me,'  says 
Mis'  Holcomb,  'connectin'  the  Fourth  up  with 
society  and  secular  doin's.  When  I  was  young, 
my  understandin'  of  a  garden  party  would  of 
been  somethin'  worldly.  Now  it  seems  it's 
patriotic.  Well,  I  wonder  how  it's  believed  to 
be  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  ?' 

"But  whether  it  was  right  or  whether  it  was 
wrong,  none  of  it  rung  like  it  had  ought  to  of 
rang.  They  wan't  no  glow  to  it.  We  all  went 
around  like  getting  supper  on  wash-day,  and 
not  like  getting  up  a  meal  for  folks  that  meant 
a  lot  to  us.  It  wan't  going  to  be  any  such  Fourth 
as  I'd  meant  about  and  wanted  to  have  come 
back.  The  day  come  on  a  pacing,  and  the 
nearer  it  come,  the  worse  all  us  ladies  felt.  And 
by  a  few  days  before  it,  when  our  final  committee 
meeting  come  off  in  Abagail  Arnold's  home 
bakery,  back  room,  'count  of  being  central, 
we  was  all  blue  as  the  grave,  and  I  donno  but 


io8  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

bluer.  We  set  waiting  for  Silas  that  was  having 
a  long-distance  call,  and  Abagail  was  putting  in 
the  time  frosting  dark  cakes  in  the  same  room. 
We  was  most  all  there  but  the  niece  Miss  Beryl 
Sessions.  She  had  gone  home,  but  she  was 
coming  back  on  the  Fourth  in  an  automobile 
full  o'  city  folks. 

"'The  marquee9 s  come,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb, 
throwing  out  the  word  clickish. 

"Nobody  said  anything.  Seems  it  was  a  tent 
all  along. 

"Silas  has  got  in  an  extra  boy  for  the  day,' 
says  Mis'  Sykes,  complacent.  'It's  the  littlest 
Cadoza  boy,  Spudge.  He's  goin'  to  walk  up  an' 
down  Daphne  Street  all  day,  with  a  Prize  Coffee 
board  on  his  back.' 

"'Where's  Spudge's  Fourth  comin'  in?'  I 
couldn't  Jjielp  askin'. 

"Mis'  Sykes  stared.  She  always  could  look 
you  down,  but  she's  got  a  much  flatter,  thicker 
stare  since  her  niece  come.  '  What's  them 
kind  o'  folks  for  but  such  work  ?'  says  she, 
puckering. 

'"Oh,  I  donno,  I  donno,'  says  I.  'I  thought 
mebbe  they  was  partly  made  to  thank  the  Lord 
for  bein'  born  free.' 

"'How  unpractical  you  talk,  Calliope,'  she 
says. 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  109 

"'I  donno  that  word,'  says  I,  reckless  from 
being  pent  up.  'But  it  seems  like  a  liberty- 
lovin'  people  had  ought  to  hev  one  day  to  love 
liberty  on  an'  not  tote  groceries  and  boards  and 
such.' 

"'Don't  it!'  says  Mis'  Holcomb-that-was- 
Mame-Bliss,  explosive. 

"'What  you  talking?'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  cold. 
'Don't  you  know  the  Fourth  of  July  can  be 
made  one  of  the  best  days  of  the  year  for 
your  own  town's  good  ?  What's  that  if  it  ain't 
patriotic  ?' 

"'It's  Yankee  shrewd,'  says  I,  snapping  some, 
'that's  what  it  is.  It  ain't  Yankee  spirited, 
by  a  long  shot.' 

"'"By  a  long  shot"'  quotes  Mis'  Sykes, 
withering.  She  always  was  death  on  wording, 
and  she  was  far  more  death  after  her  niece  come. 
But  I  always  thought,  and  I  think  now,  that 
correcting  your  advisary's  grammar  is  like  tell 
ing  him  there's  a  smooch  on  his  nose,  and  they 
ain't  either  of  them  parliamental  or  decent. 

"Mis'  Uppers  sighed.  'The  whole  thing,' 
says  she,  candid,  '  sounds  to  me  like  Fourth  o' 
July  in  Europe  or  somewheres.  No  get-up-an'- 
get  anywheres  to  it.  What  do  they  do  in  Europe 
on  the  Fourth  o'  July,  anyway  ?'  she  wondered. 
'I  donno's  I  ever  read.' 


i  io  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"'I  donno,  either,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb,  dark, 
'but  I  bet  you  it's  one  of  these  All  Frost  cele 
brations  —  or  whatever  it  is  they  say.' 

"Mis'  Toplady  set  drying  her  feet  by  Abagail's 
stove,  and  she  looked  regular  down  in  the  mouth. 
'Well,  sir,'  she  said,  'a  Fourth  o'  July  all  ro 
settes  an'  ribbin's  so  don't  sound  to  me  one  bit 
like  the  regular  Fourth  at  all.  It  don't  sound 
to  me  no  more'n  the  third  —  or  the  fifth.' 

"I  was  getting  that  same  homesick  feeling 
that  I'd  had  off  and  on  all  through  the  getting 
ready,  that  hankering  for  the  old  kinds  of 
Fourths  of  Julys  when  I  was  a  little  girl.  When 
us  girls  had  a  quarter  apiece  to  spend,  and 
father'd  cover  the  quarter  with  his  hands  on 
the  gate-post  for  us  to  guess  them ;  and  when 
the  boys  picked  up  scrap-iron  and  sold  old 
rubbers  to  get  their  Fourth  money.  It  wan't 
so  much  what  we  used  to  do  that  I  wanted 
back  as  it  was  the  feeling.  \Vhy,  none  of  our 
spines  use'  to  be  laid  down  good  and  flat  in  our 
backs  once  all  day  long.  And  I  wisht  what  I'd 
wisht  more  than  once  since  the  mass-meeting, 
that  some  of  us  ladies  had  of  took  hold  of  that 
Fourth  and  had  run  it  so's  'twould  of  been 
like  you  mean  'way  inside  when  you  say  'The 
Fourth  of  July'  -  and  that  death  and  distance 
and  long-ago-ness  is  awful  in  the  way  of. 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  in 

"'We'd  ought  to  of  had  a  grand  basket 
dinner  in  the  Depot  Woods,'  I  says,  restless. 

" '  An'  a  p'rade,'  says  Mis'  Toplady.  '  I  donno 
nothin'  that  makes  me  feel  more  patriotic  than 
the  minute  before  the  p'rade  comes  by.' 

"'An'  children  in  the  Fourth  somehow,'  Mis' 
Uppers  says.  'Land,  children  is  who  it's  for, 
anyhow,'  she  says,  like  I'd  been  thinking  ;  '  an'  all 
we've  ever  done  for  'em  about  it  is  to  leave  'em 
kill  'emselves  with  it.' 

"Well,  it  was  there,  just  there,  and  before 
Mis'  Sykes  could  dicker  a  reply  that  in  come 
tearing  her  husband  from  his  long-distance  tele 
phoning,  and  raced  into  the  room  like  he  hadn't 
a  manner  in  his  kit. 

"'We're  all  over  with,'  Silas  shouts.  'It's  all 
done  for !  Thaddeus  Hyslop  is  smashed  an' 
bleedin'.  He  can't  come.  We  ain't  got  no 
speech.  His  automobile's  turned  over  on  top  of 
his  last  speakin'  place.  Everybody  else  that 
ain't  one-horse  is  sure  to  be  got  for  somewheres 
else.  Our  Fourth  of  July  is  rooned.  WVre  done 
for.  The  editor's  gettin'  it  in  the  Weekly  so's  to 
warn  the  county.  We'll  be  the  Laughing  Stock. 
Dang  the  luck  !'  says  Silas  ;  'why  don't  some  o' 
you  say  somethin'  ?' 

"But  it  wasn't  all  because  Silas  was  doing  it 
all  that  the  men  didn't  talk,  because  when  he'd 


ii2  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

stopped,  they  all  stood  there  with  their  mouths 
open  and  never  said  a  word.  Seems  to  me  I 
did  hear  Timothy  Toplady  bring  out,  'Blisterin' 
Benson,'  but  nobody  offered  nothing  more  fertile. 
That  is,  nobody  of  the  men  did.  But  'most  be 
fore  I  got  my  thoughts  together  I  heard  two  feet 
of  a  chair  come  down  onto  the  floor,  and  Mis' 
Amanda  Toplady  stood  up  there  by  Abagail's 
cook  stove,  and  she  took  the  griddle  lifter  and 
struck  light  on  the  side  of  the  pipe. 

" '  Hurrah ! '  she  says.  '  Now  we  can  have  a  real 
Fourth.  A  Fourth  that  does  as  a  Fourth  is.' 

"'What  you  talkin',  Amanda  Toplady?' 
says  Silas,  crisp  ;  and  '  'Mandy,  what  the  blazes 
do  you  mean  ?'  says  Timothy,  her  lawful  lord. 
But  Mis'  Toplady  didn't  mind  them,  nor  mind 
Mis'  Sykes,  that  was  staring  at  her  flat  and  thick. 

"'I  mean,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  reckless, 
'I  been  sick  to  death  of  the  idea  of  a  Fourth  with 
no  spirit  to  it.  I  mean  I  been  sick  to  death  of 
a  Fourth  that's  all  starched  white  dresses  an' 
company  manners  an'  no  hurrahs  anywheres 
about  it.  An'  us  ladies,  most  all  of  us,  feels  the 
same.  We  didn't  like  to  press  in,  bein'  you 
men  done  the  original  plannin',  an'  so  not  one  of 
us  has  said  "P'rade,"  nor  nothin'  else  to  you. 
But  now  that  your  orator  has  fell  through  on 
himself,  you  men  just  leave  us  ladies  in  on  this 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  113 

thing  to  do  more'n  take  orders,  an'  you  needn't 
be  the  Laughin'  Stock  o'  nothin'  an'  nobody.  I 
guess  you'll  all  stand  by  me.  What  say, 
ladies  ?' 

"Well,  sir,  you'd  ought  to  of  heard  us.  We 
joined  in  like  a  patch  of  grasshoppers  singing. 
They  wasn't  one  of  us  that  hadn't  been  dying 
to  get  our  hands  on  that  Fourth  and  make  it  a 
Fourth  full  of  unction  and  oil  of  joy,  like  the 
Bible  said,  and  must  of  meant  what  we  meant. 

"'Oh,  ladies,'  I  remember  I  says,  fervent,  'I 
feel  like  we  could  make  a  Fourth  o'  July  just 
like  stirrin'  up  a  white  cake,  so  be  we  was  let.' 

"'What  d'  you  know  about  managin'  a 
Fourth  ? '  snarls  Silas.  'You'll  have  us  all  in  the 
hole.  You'll  have  us  shellin'  out  of  our  own 
pockets  to  make  up  — ' 

"Mis'  Toplady  whirled  on  him.  'Would  you 
druther  have  Red  Barns  an'  Indian  Mound 
a-jumpin'  on  you  through  the  weekly  press 
for  bein'  bluffers,  an'  callin'  us  cheap  an'  like  that, 
or  would  you  druther  not  ?'  she  put  it  to  him. 

"'Dang  it,'  says  Silas,  'I  never  tried  to  do  a 
thing  for  this  town  that  it  didn't  lay  down  an' 
roll  all  over  me.  I  wish  I  was  dead.' 

"'You  wan't  tryin'  to  do  this  thing  for  this 
town,'  says  Mis'  Toplady  back  at  him,  like  the 
wind.  'You  was  tryin'  to  do  it  for  the  stores  of 


n4  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

this  town,  an'  you  know  it.  You  was  tryin'  to 
ride  the  Fourth  for  a  horse  to  the  waterin' 
trough  o'  good  business,  an'  you  know  it,  Silas 
Sykes,'  says  she,  'an'  so  was  Jimmy  and  Threat 
an'  all  of  you.  The  hull  country  tries  to  get  be 
hind  the  Fourth  of  July  an'  make  money  over  its 
back  like  a  counter.  It  ain't  what  was  meant, 
an'  us  ladies  felt  it  all  along.  An'  neither  was 
it  meant  for  a  garden  party  day  alone,  though 
that?  says  Mis'  Toplady,  gracious,  'is  a  real 
sweet  side  idea.  An'  Mis'  Sykes  an'  Mis' 
Sessions  had  ought  to  go  on  an'  run  that  part 
of  it,  bein'  the  —  tent's  here,'  she  could  not 
bring  herself  to  use  that  other  word.  'But,' 
she  says,  'that  ain't  all  of  a  real  Fourth,  nor 
yet  a  speech  ain't,  though  he  did  use  to  be  in  the 
legislature.  Them  things  alone  don't  make  a 
real  flag,  liberty-praisin'  Fourth,  to  me  nor  to 
none  of  us.' 

"'Well,'  says  Silas,  sour,  'what  you  goin'  to 
do  if  the  men  decides  to  let  you  try  this  ?' 

'"That  ain't  the  way,'  says  Mis'  Toplady, 
like  a  flash;  'it  ain't  for  the  men  to  let  us  do 
nothin'.  It's  for  us  all  to  do  it  together,  yoke  to 
yoke,  just  like  everything  else  ought  to  be  done 
by  us  both,  an'  no  talk  o'  "runnin*"  by  either 
side.' 

"'But   what's    the  idee  —  what's  the  idee?' 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  115 

says  Silas.  'Dang  it  all,  somebody's  got  to  hev 
an  idee.' 

"'Us  ladies  has  got  'em,'  says  Mis'  Toplady, 
calm.  'An','  says  she,  'one  o'  the  first  of  'em  is 
that  if  we  have  anything  to  do  with  runnin'  the 
Fourth  of  our  forefathers,  then  after  10  A.M., 
all  day  on  that  day,  every  business  house  in  town 
has  got  to  shut  down.' 

" '  What  ? '  says  Silas,  his  voice  slippin'.  ' Gone 
crazy-headed,  hev  ye  ? ' 

"'No,  Silas,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  'nor  yet  hev 
we  gone  so  graspin'  that  we  can't  give  up  a  day's 
trade  to  take  notice  of  our  country.' 

'"Lord  Harry,'  says  Silas,  'you  can't  get  a 
dealer  in  town  to  do  it,  an'  you  know  it.' 

'"Oh,  yes,  you  can,  Silas,'  says  somebody, 
brisk.  And  it  was  Abagail,  frosting  dark  cakes 
over  by  the  side  of  the  room.  'I  was  goin'  to 
shut  up  shop,  anyway,  all  day  on  the  Fourth,' 
Abagail  says. 

"'An'  lose  the  country  trade  in  lunches?' 
yells  Silas.  'Why,  woman,  you'd  be  Ten  Dollars 
out  o'  pocket.' 

'"I  wan't  never  one  to  spend  the  mornin' 
thankin'  God  an'  the  afternoon  dippin'  oysters,' 
says  Abagail.  And  Silas  scrunched.  He  done 
that  one  year  when  his  Thanksgiving  oysters 
come  late,  and  he  knew  he  done  it. 


ii6  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"Well,  they  went  over  it  and  over  it  and  tried 
to  think  of  some  other  way,  and  tried  to  hatch 
up  some  other  speaker  without  eating  up  the 
whole  Fifty  Dollars  in  telephone  tolls,  and  tried 
most  other  things.  And  then  we  told  them 
what  we'd  thought  of  different  times,  amongst 
us  as  being  features  fit  for  a  Fourth  in  the  sight 
of  the  Lord  and  the  sight  of  men.  And  they 
hemmed  and  they  hawed  and  they  give  in  about 
as  graceful  as  a  clothes-line  winds  up  when 
you've  left  it  out  in  the  sleet,  but  they  did  give 
in  and  see  reason.  Timothy  last  —  that's  quite 
vain  of  being  firm. 

"  *  If  we  come  out  with  a  one-horse  doin's, 
seem's  like  it'd  be  worse  than  sittin'  down  flat- 
foot  failed,'  he  mourns,  grieving. 

"Amanda,  his  wife,  give  him  one  of  her  looks. 
'Timothy,'  says  she,  'when,  since  you  was 
married  to  me,  did  I  ever  fail  to  stodge  up  a 
company  dinner  or  a  spare  bed  or  a  shroud 
when  it  was  needed  sudden  ?  When  did  any 
of  us  ladies  ever  fail  that's  here  ?  Do  you 
sp'ose  we're  any  more  scant  of  idees  about  our 
own  nation  ?' 

"And  Timothy  had  to  keep  his  silence.  He 
knew  what  she  said  was  the  Old  Testament 
truth.  But  I  think  what  really  swung  them 
all  round  was  the  thought  of  Red  Barns  and 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  117 

Indian  Mound.  Imagination  of  what  them  two 
weekly  papers  would  say,  so  be  we  petered  out 
on  our  speech  and  didn't  offer  nothing  else, 
was  too  much  for  flesh  and  blood  to  bear.  And 
the  men  ended  by  agreeing  to  seeing  to  shutting 
every  business  house  in  Friendship  Village  and 
they  went  off  to  do  it,  —  resolved,  but  groan 
ing  some,  like  men  will. 

"Mis'  Sykes,  she  made  some  excuse  and  went, 
too.  'I'll  run  the  garden  party  part,'  says  she. 
'My  niece  an'  I'll  do  that,  an'  try  our  best  to 
get  some  novelty  into  your  Fourth.  An'  we'll 
preside  on  the  marquee,  like  we'd  agreed. 
More  I  don't  say.' 

"But  the  rest  of  us,  we  stayed  on  there  at 
Abagail's,  and  we  planned  like  mad. 

"We  didn't  look  in  no  journal  nor  on  no  wo 
man's  page  for  something  new.  We  didn't 
rush  to  our  City  relations  for  novelties.  We 
didn't  try  for  this  and  that  nor  grasp  at  no 
agony  whatever.  We  just  went  down  deep 
into  the  inside  of  our  understanding  and  thought 
what  the  Fourth  was  and  how  them  that  made 
it  would  of  wanted  it  kept.  No  fingers  blowed 
off  nor  clothes  scorched  up,  no  houses  burned 
down,  no  ear-drums  busted  out  —  none  of 
them  would  of  been  in  their  programme,  and 
they  wan't  in  ours.  Some  of  the  things  that 


ii8  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

was  in  ours  we'd  got  by  hearing  Insley  tell 
what  they  was  doin'  other  places.  Some  o' 
the  things  he  suggested  to  us.  Some  o'  the 
things  we  got  by  just  going  back  and  back  down 
the  years  an'  remembering  --  not  so  much  what 
we'd  done  as  the  way  we  use'  to  feel,  long  ago, 
when  the  Fourth  was  the  Fourth  and  acted  like  it 
knew  it.  Some  of  the  things  we  got  by  just 
reaching  forward  and  forward,  and  seeing  what 
the  Fourth  is  going  to  mean  to  them  a  hundred 
years  from  now  —  so  be  we  do  our  part.  And 
some  of  the  things  we  got  through  sheer  make 
shift  woman  intelligence,  that  put  its  heads 
together  and  used  everything  it  had,  that  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  nation,  or  the  town, 
or  with  really  living  at  all  the  way  that  first 
Fourth  of  July  meant  about,  'way  down  inside. 
"Before  it  was  light  on  the  morning  of  the 
Fourth,  I  woke  up,  feeling  all  happy  and  like 
I  wanted  to  hurry.  I  was  up  and  dressed  be 
fore  the  sun  was  up,  and  when  I  opened  my  front 
door,  I  declare  it  was  just  like  the  glory  of  the 
Lord  was  out  there  waiting  for  me.  The 
street  was  laying  all  still  and  simple,  like  it 
was  ready  and  waiting  for  the  light.  Early  as 
it  was,  Mis'  Holcomb  was  just  shaking  her 
breakfast  table-cloth  on  her  side  stoop,  and 
she  waved  it  to  me,  big  and  billowy  and  white, 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  119 

like  a  banner.  And  I  offs  with  my  apron  and 
waved  it  back,  and  it  couldn't  of  meant  no  more 
to  either  of  us  if  we  had  been  shaking  out  the 
folds  of  flags.  It  was  too  early  for  the  country 
wagons  to  be  rattling  in  yet,  and  they  wan't 
no  other  sounds  —  except  a  little  bit  of  a  pop 
now  and  then  over  to  where  Bennie  Uppers 
and  little  Nick  Toplady  was  up  and  out,  throw 
ing  torpedoes  onto  the  bricks ;  and  then  the 
birds  that  was  trilling  an'  shouting  like  mad,  till 
every  tree  all  up  and  down  Daphne  Street  and 
all  up  and  down  the  town  and  the  valley  was 
just  one  living  singing.  And  all  over  every 
thing,  like  a  kind  of  a  weave  to  it,  was  that 
something  that  makes  a  Sunday  morning  and 
some  holiday  mornings  better  and  sweeter  and 
goldener  than  any  other  day.  I  ain't  got  much 
of  a  garden,  not  having  any  real  time  to  fuss 
in  it,  but  I  walked  out  into  the  middle  of  the 
little  patch  of  pinks  and  parsley  that  I  have 
got,  and  I  says  'way  deep  in  me,  deeper  than 
thinking:  'It  don't  make  no  manner  of  dif- 
fer'nce  how  much  of  a  fizzle  the  day  ends  up 
with,  this,  here  and  now,  is  the  way  it  had 
ought  to  start.' 

"  Never,  not  if  I  live  till  beyond  always,  will 
I  forget  how  us  ladies'  hearts  was  in  our  mouths 
when,  along  about  'leven  o'clock,  we  heard  the 


120  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

Friendship  Village  Stonehenge  band  coming 
fifing  along,  and  we  knew  the  parade  was  begun. 
We  was  all  on  the  market  square  —  hundreds 
of  us,  seems  though.  Red  Barns  and  Indian 
Mound  had  turned  out  from  side  to  side  of 
themselves,  mingling  the  same  as  though  plough 
shares  was  pruning-hooks  —  or  whatever  that 
quotation  time  is --both  towns  looking  for 
flaws  in  the  day,  like  enough,  but  both  shutting 
up  about  it,  biblical.  Even  the  marquee,  with 
its  red  and  white  stripes,  showing  through  the 
trees,  made  me  feel  good.  'Land,  land,'  Mis' 
Toplady  says,  'it  looks  kind  of  homey  and  old- 
fashioned,  after  all,  don't  it  ?  I  mean  the  - 
tent,'  she  says  —  she  would  not  say  the  other 
word ;  but  then  I  guess  it  made  her  kind  of 
mad  seeing  Mis'  Sykes  bobbing  around  in  there 
in  white  duck  an'  white  shoes  —  her  that  ain't 
a  grandmother  sole  because  of  Nature  and  not 
at  all  through  any  lack  of  her  own  years. 
Everything  was  all  seeming  light  and  confident 
-  but  I  tell  you  we  didn't  feel  so  confident  as 
we'd  meant  to  when  we  heard  the  band  a-com- 
ing  to  the  tune  o'  'Hail,  Columbia  !  Happy 
Land.'  And  yet  now,  when  I  look  back  on 
that  Independence  Day  procession,  it  seems  like 
regular  floats  is  no  more  than  toy  doings  be 
side  of  it. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  121 

"What  do  you  guess  us  ladies  had  thought 
up  for  our  procession,  —  with  Insley  back  of 
us,  letting  us  think  we  thought  it  up  alone  ? 
Mebbe  you'll  laugh,  because  it  wan't  expensive 
to  do ;  but  oh,  I  think  it  was  nice.  '  We'd  took 
everything  in  the  town  that  done  the  town's 
work,  and  we'd  run  them  all  together.  We 
headed  off  with  the  fire-engine,  'count  of  the 
glitter  —  and  we'd  loaded  it  down  with  flags 
and  flowers,  and  the  hook  and  ladder  and  hose- 
carts  the  same,  wheels  and  sides ;  and  flags 
in  the  rubber  caps  of  the  firemen  up  top.  Then 
we  had  the  two  big  sprinkling  carts,  wound 
with  bunting,  and  five-foot  flags  flying  from 
the  seats.  Then  come  all  the  city  teams 
drawn  by  the  city  horses  —  nice,  'plump  horses 
they  was,  and  rosettes  on  them,  and  each  man 
had  decorated  his  wagon  and  was  driving  it 
in  his  best  clothes.  Then  come  the  steam  roller 
that  Friendship  Village  and  Red  Barns  and 
Indian  Mound  owns  together  and  scraps  over 
some,  though  that  didn't  appear  in  its  appear 
ance,  puffing  along,  with  posies  on  it.  Then 
there  was  the  city  electric  light  repair  wagon, 
with  a  big  paper  globe  for  an  umbrella,  and  the 
electric  men  riding  with  their  leggings  on  and 
their  spurs,  like  they  climb  the  poles ;  and 
behind  them  the  telephone  men  was  riding  — 


122  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

because  the  town  owns  its  own  telephone,  too 
-  and  then  the  four  Centrals,  in  pretty  shirt 
waists,  in  a  double-seated  buggy  loaded  with 
flowers  —  the  telephone  office  we'd  see  to  it 
was  closed  down,  too,  to  have  its  Fourth,  like 
a  human  being.  And  marching  behind  them 
was  the  city  waterworks  men,  best  bib  and 
tucker  apiece.  And  then  we  hed  out  the  gal 
vanized  garbage  wagon  that  us  ladies  hed 
bought  ourselves  a  year  ago,  and  that  wasn't 
being  used  this  year  count  of  the  city  pleading 
too  poison  poor ;  and  it  was  all  scrubbed  up 
and  garnished  and  filled  with  ferns  and  drove 
by  its  own  driver  and  the  boy  that  had  use'  to 
go  along  to  empty  the  cans.  And  then  of 
course  they  was  more  things  —  some  of  them 
with  day  fireworks  shooting  up  from  them  — • 
but  not  the  hearse,  though  we  had  all  we  could 
do  to  keep  Timothy  Toplady  from  having  it 
in,  'count  of  its  common  public  office. 

"Well,  and  then  we'd  done  an  innovation  - 
an'  this  was  all  Insley's  idea,  and  it  was  him  that 
made  us  believe  we  could  do  it.  Coming  next, 
in  carriages  and  on  foot,  was  the  mayor  and  the 
city  council  and  every  last  man  or  woman  that 
had  anything  to  do  with  running  the  city  life. 
They  was  all  there  —  city  treasurer,  clerk  of 
the  court,  register  of  deeds,  sheriffs,  marshals, 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  123 

night-watchmen,  health  officer,  postmaster,  jan 
itor  of  the  city  hall,  clerks,  secretaries,  sten 
ographers,  school  board,  city  teachers,  and  every 
one  of  the  rest  —  they  was  all  there,  just  like 
they  had  belonged  in  the  p'rade  the  way  them 
framers  of  the  first  Fourth  of  July  had  meant 
they  should  fit  in :  Conscience  and  all.  But 
some  of  them  servants  of  the  town  had  made 
money  off'n  its  good  roads,  and  some  off'n 
its  saloons,  and  some  off'n  getting  ordinances 
repealed,  and  some  ofFn  inspecting  buildings 
and  sidewalks  that  they  didn't  know  nothing 
about,  and  some  was  making  it  even  then  by  pav 
ing  out  into  the  marsh ;  and  some  in  yet  other 
ways  that  wasn't  either  real  elbow  work  nor 
clean  head  work.  What  else  could  they  do  ? 
We'd  ask'  them  to  march  because  they  repre 
sented  the  town,  and  rather'n  own  they  didn't 
represent  the  town,  there  they  was  marching ; 
but  if  some  of  them  didn't  step  down  Daphne 
Street  feeling  green  and  sick  and  sore  and  right 
down  schoolboy  ashamed  of  themselves,  then 
they  ain't  got  the  human  thrill  in  them  that 
somehow  I  cannot  believe  ever  dies  clear  out 
of  nobody.  They  was  a  lump  in  my  throat 
for  them  that  had  sold  themselves,  and  they 
was  a  lump  for  them  that  hadn't  —  but  oh, 
the  differ'nce  in  the  lumps. 


124  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"'Land,  land,'  I  says  to  Mis'  Toplady,  'if 
we  ain't  done  another  thing,  we've  made  'em 
remember  they're  servants  to  Friendship  Vil 
lage  —  like  they  often  forget.' 

'"Ain't  we  ?'  she  says,  solemn.  'Ain't  we  ?' 
"And  then  next  behind  begun  the  farm  things  : 
the  threshin'  machines  and  reapers  and  binders 
and  mowers  and  like  that,  all  drawn  by  the 
farm  horses  and  drove  by  their  owners  and 
decorated  by  them,  jolly  and  gay;  and,  too, 
all  the  farm  horses  for  miles  around --we  was 
going  to  give  a  donated  surprise  prize  for  the 
best  kep'  and  fed  amongst  them.  And  last, 
except  for  the  other  two  bands  sprinkled  along, 
come  the  leading  citizens,  and  who  do  you 
guess  they  was  ?  Not  Silas  nor  Timothy  nor 
Eppleby  nor  even  Doctor  June,  nor  our  other 
leading  business  men  and  our  three  or  four 
professionals  —  no,  not  them ;  but  the  real, 
true,  leading  citizens  of  Friendship  Village  and 
Indian  Mound  and  Red  Barns  and  other  towns 
and  the  farms  between  —  the  children,  over 
two  hundred  of  them,  dressed  in  white  if  they 
had  it  and  in  dark  if  they  didn't,  with  or  with 
out  shoes,  in  rags  or  out  of  them,  village-tough 
descended  or  with  pew-renting  fathers,  all  the 
same  and  together,  and  carrying  a  flag  and  sing 
ing  to  the  tops  of  their  voices  'Hail,  Columbia,' 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  125 

that  the  bands  kept  a-playing,  some  out  of 
plumb  as  to  time,  but  all  fervent  and  joyous. 
It  was  us  women  alone  that  got  up  that  part. 
My,  I  like  to  think  about  it. 

"They  swung  the  length  of  Daphne  Street 
and  twice  around  the  market  square,  and  they 
come  to  a  halt  in  front  of  the  platform.  And 
Doctor  June  stood  up  before  them  all,  and  he 
prayed  like  this  :  — 

"  '  Lord  God,  that  let  us  start  free  an'  think 
we  was  equal,  give  us  to  help  one  another  to  be 
free  an'  to  get  equal,  in  deed  an'  in  truth.' 

"And  who  do  you  s'pose  we  hed  to  read  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  ?  Little  Spudge 
Cadoza,  that  Silas  had  been  a-going  to  hev 
walk  up  and  down  Daphne  Street  with  a  board 
on  his  back  —  Insley  thought  of  him,  and  we 
picked  him  out  a-purpose.  And  though  he 
didn't  read  it  so  thrilling  as  Silas  would  of, 
it  made  me  feel  the  way  no  reading  of  it  has  ever 
made  me  feel  before  —  oh,  because  it  was  kind 
of  like  we'd  snapped  up  the  little  kid  and  set 
him  free  all  over  again,  even  though  he  wasn't 
it  but  one  day  in  the  year.  And  it  sort  of 
seemed  to  me  that  all  inside  the  words  he  read 
was  trumpets  and  horns  telling  how  much  them 
words  was  going  to  mean  to  him  and  his  kind 
before  he'd  had  time  to  die.  And  then  the 


126  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

Glee  Club  struck  into  'America,'  and  the  whole 
crowd  joined  in  without  being  expected,  and 
the  three  bands  that  was  laying  over  in  the 
shade  hopped  up  and  struck  in,  too  —  and  I 
bet  they  could  of  heard  us  to  Indian  Mound. 
Leastways  to  Red  Barns,  that  we  can  see  from 
Friendship  Village  when  it's  clear. 

"The  grand  basket  dinner  in  the  Depot 
Woods  stays  in  my  head  as  one  picture,  all 
full  of  veal  loaf  and  'scalloped  potato  and  fruit 
salad  and  nut-bread  and  deviled  eggs  and 
bake'  beans  and  pickle'  peaches  and  layer  cake 
and  drop  sponge-cake  and  hot  coffee  --  the  kind 
of  a  dinner  that  comes  crowding  to  your  thought 
whenever  you  think  'Dinner'  at  your  hungriest. 
And  after  we'd  took  care  of  everybody's  baskets 
and  set  them  under  a  tree  for  a  lunch  towards 
six,  us  ladies  went  back  to  the  market  square. 
And  over  by  the  marquee  we  see  the  men 
gathered  --  all  but  Insley,  that  had  slipped 
away  as  quick  as  we  begun  telling  him  how  much 
of  it  was  due  to  him.  Miss  Beryl  Sessions  had 
just  arrived,  in  a  automobile,  covered  with 
veils,  and  she  was  introducing  the  other  men 
to  her  City  friends.  Us  ladies  sort  of  kittered 
around  back  of  them,  not  wanting  to  press 
ourselves  forward  none,  and  we  went  up  to 
the  door  of  the  marquee  where,  behind  the 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  127 

refreshment   table,    Mis'  Sykes  was  a-standing 
in  her  white  duck. 

"'My,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb  to  her,  'it's  all 
going  off  nice  so  far,  ain't  it  ?' 

"  'They  ain't  a  great  deal  the  matter  with  it,' 
says  Mis'  Sykes,  snappy. 

'"Why,    Mis'    Sykes,'    says    Mis'    Uppers, 
grieving,    'the    parade    an'    the    basket    dinner 
seemed  to  me  both  just  perfect.' 

"'The  parade  done  well  enough,'  says  Mis' 
Sykes,  not  looking  at  her.  '  I  donno  much  about 
the  dinner.' 

"And  all  of  a  sudden  we  recollected  that  she 
hadn't  been  over  to  the  grand  basket  dinner 
at  all. 

"'Why,  Mis'  Sykes,'  says  Mis'  Toplady, 
blank,  'ain't  you  et  nothin'  ?' 

'"My  niece,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  dignified, 
'didn't  get  here  till  now.  Who  was  I  to  leave 
in  the  tent?  I've  et,'  says  she,  cold,  'two 
dishes  of  ice-cream  an'  two  chocolate  nut- 
cakes.' 

"Mis'  Toplady  just  swoops  over  towards 
her.  'Why,  my  land,'  she  says,  hearty,  'they's 
stuff  an'  to  spare  packed  over  there  under  the 
trees.  You  go  right  on  over  and  get  your 
dinner.  Poke  right  into  any  of  our  baskets  — 
ours  is  grouped  around  mine  that's  tied  with 


128  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

a  red  bandanna  to  the  handle.  And  leave 
us  tend  the  marquee.  What  say,  ladies  ?' 

"And  I  don't  think  she  even  sensed  she  used 
that  name. 

"When  she'd  gone,  I  stood  a  minute  in  the 
marquee  door  looking  off  acrost  the  market 
square,  hearing  Miss  Beryl  Sessions  and  the 
men  congratulating  each  other  on  the  glorious 
Fourth  they  was  a-having,  and  the  City  folks 
praising  them  both  sky  high. 

"'Real  nice  idee  it  was,'  says  Silas,  with  his 
hands  under  his  best  coat  tails.  'Nice,  tastey, 
up-to-date  Fourth.  And  cheap  to  do.' 

"'Yes,  we  all  hung  out  for  a  good  Fourth 
this  year,'  says  Timothy,  complacent. 

"'It's  a  simply  lovely  idea,'  says  Miss  Beryl 
Sessions,  all  sweet  and  chirpy  and  interested, 
'this  making  the  Fourth  a  county  party  and 
getting  everybody  in  town,  so.  But  tell  me  : 
Whatever  made  you  close  your  shops  ?  I 
thought  the  Fourth  could  always  be  made  to 
pay  for  itself  over  and  over,  if  the  business 
houses  went  about  it  right.' 

"'Oh,  well,'  says  Silas,  lame  but  genial,  'we 
closed  up  to-day.  We  kind  o'  thought  we 
would.' 

"But  I  stood  looking  off  acrost  the  market 
square,  where  the  children  was  playing,  and 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  129 

quoits  was  being  pitched,  and  the  ball  game 
was  going  to  commence,  and  the  calathumpians 
was  capering,  and  most  of  Red  Barns  and 
Indian  Mound  and  Friendship  Village  was 
mingling,  lion  and  lamb  ;  and  I  looked  on  along 
Daphne  Street,  where  little  Spudge  Cadoza 
wasn't  walking  with  a  Prize  Coffee  board  on  his 
back,  --  and  all  of  a  sudden  I  felt  just  the  way 
I'd  wanted  to  feel,  in  spite  of  all  the  distance 
and  long-ago-ness.  And  I  turned  and  says  to 
the  other  women  inside  the  marquee:  — 

"'Seems  to  me,'  I  says,  'as  if  the  Fourth  of 
July  had  paid  for  itself,  over  and  over.  Oh, 
don't  it  to  you  ?' 


VI 

"THE  new  editor  of  the  Friendship  Village 
Evening  Daily  give  a  fine  write-up  of  the  cele 
bration.  He  printed  it  on  the  night  after  the 
Fourth,  not  getting  out  any  paper  at  all  on  the 
day  that  was  the  day ;  but  on  the  night  after 
that,  the  news  columns  of  his  paper  fell  flat 
and  dead.  In  a  village  the  day  following  a 
holiday  is  like  the  hush  after  a  noise.  The 
whole  town  seems  like  it  was  either  asleep  or  on 
tiptoe.  And  in  Friendship  Village  this  hush 
was  worse  than  the  hush  of  other  years.  Other 
years  they'd  usually  been  accidents  to  keep 
track  of,  and  mebbe  even  an  amputation  or 
two  to  report.  But  this  Fourth  there  was  no 
misfortunes  whatever,  nor  nothing  to  make 
good  reading  for  the  night  of  July  6. 

"So  the  editor  thought  over  his  friends  and 
run  right  down  the  news  column,  telling  what 
there  wasn't.  Like  this  :  - 

"  '  SUPPER  TABLE  JOTTINGS 

" '  Postmaster  Silas  Sykes  is  well. 
"  '  Timothy  Toplady  has  not  had  a  cold  since 
before  Christmas.     Prudent  Timothy. 

130 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  131 

"'Jimmy  Sturgis  has  not  broken  his  leg  yet 
this  year  as  he  did  last.  Keep  it  up,  Jimmy. 

"  '  Eppleby  Holcomb  has  not  been  out  of  town 
for  quite  a  while. 

"  '  None  of  the  Friendship  ladies  has  given  a 
party  all  season. 

"  *  The  First  Church  is  not  burnt  down  nor 
damaged  nor  repaired.  Insurance  $750. 

" '  Nothing  local  is  in  much  of  any  trouble. 

"  '  Nobody  is  dead  here  to-day  except  the  usual 
ones. 

" '  Nobody  that's  got  a  telephone  in  has  any 
company  at  the  present  writing.  Where  is 
the  old-time  hospitality  ? 

'  Subscriptions  payable  in  advance. 
'  Subscriptions  payable  in  advance. 

"  '  Subscriptions  payable  in  advance.' 

"It  made  quite  some  fun  for  us,  two  or  three 
of  us  happening  in  the  post-office  store  when 
the  paper  come  out  —  Mis'  Sykes  and  Mis' 
Toplady  and  me.  But  we  took  it  some  to  heart, 
too,  because  to  live  in  a  town  where  they  ain't 
nothing  active  happening  all  the  time  is  a  kind 
of  running  account  of  everybody  that's  in  the 
town.  And  us  ladies  wan't  that  kind. 

"All  them  locals  done  to  Silas  Sykes,  though, 
was  to  set  him  fussing  over  nothing  ever  hap 
pening  to  him.  Silas  is  real  particular  about 


132  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

his  life,  and  I  guess  he  gets  to  thinking  how  life 
ain't  so  over-particular  about  him. 

"'Mydum,'he  says  that  night,  'that's  just 
the  way  with  this  town.  I  always  calculated 
my  life  was  goin'  to  be  quite  some  pleasure  to 
me.  But  I  don't  see  as  it  is.  If  I  thought  I 
was  going  to  get  sold  in  my  death  like  I've  been 
in  my  life,  I  swan  I'd  lose  my  interest  in  dyinV 

"Mis'  Timothy  Toplady  was  over  in  behind 
the  counter  picking  out  her  butter,  and  she 
whirled  around  from  sampling  the  jars,  and  she 
says  to  Mis'  Sykes  and  me  :  — 

"'Ladies,'  she  says,  'le's  us  propose  it  to  the 
editor  that  seems  to  have  such  a  hard  job,  that 
us  members  of  Sodality  take  a  hold  of  his  paper 
for  a  day  and  get  it  out  for  him  and  put  some 
news  in  it,  and  sell  it  to  everybody,  subscribers 
and  all,  that  one  night,  for  ten  cents.' 

"Mis'  Silas  Sykes  looks  up  and  stopped 
winking  and  breathing,  in  a  way  she  has  when 
she  sights  some  distant  money  for  Sodality. 

"Land,  land,'  she  says,  'I  bet  they'd  go  like 
hot  cakes.' 

"But  Silas  he  snorts,  scorching. 

"'Will  you  ladies  tell  me,'  he  says,  'where 
you  going  to  get  your  news  to  put  in  your  paper  ? 
The  Fourth  don't  come  along  every  day.  Or 
less  you  commit  murder  and  arson  and  run- 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  133 

aways,  there  won't  be  any  more  in  your  paper 
than  they  is  in  its  editor's.' 

"That  hit  a  tender  town-point,  and  I  couldn't 
stand  it  no  longer.  I  spoke  right  up. 

'"Oh,  I  donno,  I  donno,  Silas,'  I  says.  'They's 
those  in  this  town  that's  doin'  the  murderin' 
for  us,  neat  an'  nice,  right  along,'  I  told  him. 

"'Mean  to  say  ?'  snapped  Silas. 

'"Mean  to  say,'  says  I,  'most  every  grocery 
store  in  this  town  an'  most  every  milkman  an' 
the  meat  market  as  well  is  doin'  their  best  to 
drag  the  health  out  o'  people's  systems,  for  'em. 
Us  ladies  is  more  or  less  well  read  an'  knowl 
edgeable  of  what  is  goin'  on  in  the  world  outside,' 
I  says  to  Silas  that  ain't,  'an'  we  know  a  thing 
or  two  about  what  ought  to  be  clean.' 

"Since  Insley  come,  we  had  talked  a  good 
deal  more  about  these  things  and  what  was 
and  what  shouldn't  be ;  and  especially  we  had 
talked  it  in  Sodality,  on  account  of  our  town 
stores  and  social  ways  and  such  being  so  in 
viting  to  disease  and  death.  But  we  hadn't 
talked  it  official,  'count  of  Sodality  being  for 
Cemetery  use,  and  talking  it  scattering  we 
hadn't  been  able  to  make  the  other  men  even 
listen  to  us. 

"'Pack  o'  women  !'  says  Silas,  now,  and  went 
off  to  find  black  molasses  for  somebody. 


134  MOTHERS  TO,  MEN 

"Mis'  Toplady  sampled  her  butter,  dreamy. 

'"Rob  Henny's  butter  here,'  she  says,  'is 
made  out  of  cow  sheds  that  I  can't  bear  to  think 
about.  An'  Silas  knows  it.  Honest,'  she  says, 
'I'm  gettin'  so  I  spleen  against  the  flowers  in 
the  fields  for  fear  Rob  Henny's  cows'll  get  holt 
of  'em.  I  should  think  the  Daily  could  write 
about  that.' 

"I  remember  how  us  three  women  looked 
at  each  other  then,  like  our  brains  was  experi 
menting  with  our  ideas.  And  when  Mis'  Top- 
lady  got  her  butter,  we  slipped  out  and  spoke 
together  for  a  few  minutes  up  past  the  Town 
Pump.  And  it  was  there  the  plan  come  to  a 
head  and  legs  and  arms.  And  we  see  that  we 
had  a  way  of  picking  purses  right  off  of  every 
day,  so  be  the  editor  would  leave  us  go  ahead 
-and  of  doing  other  things. 

"The  very  next  morning  we  three  went  to 
see  the  editor  and  get  his  consent. 

"*  What's  your  circulation,  same  as  City  papers 
print  to  the  top  of  the  page?'  Mis'  Toplady 
asks  him,  practical. 

"'Paid  circulation  or  got-out  circulation?' 
says  the  editor. 

"'Paid,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  in  silver-dollar 
tones. 

"'Ah,  well,  paid  for  or  subscribed  for  ?'  asks 
the  editor. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  135 

"'Paid  for,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  still  more 
financial. 

"'Six  hundred  and  eighty  paid  for,'  the  editor 
says,  'an'  fifty-two  that  —  mean  to  pay.' 

"'My!'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  shuddering. 
'What  business  is  !  Well,  us  ladies  of  the 
Sodality  want  to  run  your  paper  for  one  day 
and  charge  all  your  subscribers  ten  cents  extra 
for  that  day's  paper.  Will  you  ?' 

"The  editor,  he  laughed  quite  a  little,  and 
then  he  looked  thoughtful.  He  was  new  and 
from  the  City  and  young  and  real  nervous  — 
he  used  to  pop  onto  his  feet  whenever  a  woman 
so  much  as  come  in  the  room. 

"'Who  would  collect  the  ten  cents  ?'  says  he. 

"'Sodality,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  firm.  'Our- 
self,  cash  an'  in  advance.9 

"The  editor  nodded,  still  smiling. 

"'Jove,'  he  said,  'this  fits  in  remarkably  well 
with  the  fishing  I've  been  thinking  about. 
I  confess  I  need  a  day.  I  suppose  you  wouldn't 
want  to  do  it  this  week  ?' 

"Mis'  Toplady  looked  at  me  with  her  eye 
brows.  But  I  nodded.  I  always  rather  hurry 
up  than  not. 

'"So  be  we  had  a  couple  o'  hours  to  get  the 
news  to  happenin','  says  she,  'that  had  ought 
to  do  us.' 


136  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"  The  editor  looked  startled. 

" '  News  ! '  said  he.  '  Oh,  I  say  now,  you  mustn't 
expect  too  much.  I  ought  to  warn  you  that 
running  a  paper  in  this  town  is  like  trying  to 
raise  cream  on  a  cistern.' 

"Mis'  Toplady  smiled  at  him  motherly. 

"'You  ain't  ever  tried  pouring  the  cream 
into  the  cistern,  I  guess,'  she  says. 

"So  we  settled  it  into  a  bargain,  except  that, 
after  we  had  planned  it  all  out  with  him  and 
just  as  we  was  going  out  the  door,  Mis'  Toplady 
thought  to  say  to  him  :  — 

"'You  know,  Sodality  don't  know  anything 
about  it  yet,  so  you'd  best  not  mention  it  out 
around  till  this  afternoon  when  we  vote  to  do  it. 
We'll  be  up  at  eight  o'clock  Thursday  morning, 
rain  or  shine.' 

"There  wasn't  ever  any  doubt  about  Sodality 
when  it  see  Sixty  Dollars  ahead  --  which  we 
would  get  if  everybody  bought  a  paper,  and  we 
was  determined  that  everybody  should  buy. 
Sodality  members  scraps  among  themselves 
personal,  but  when  it  conies  to  raising  money 
we  unite  yoke  to  yoke,  and  all  differences  for 
got.  It's  funny  sometimes  at  the  meetings, 
funny  and  disgraceful,  to  hear  how  we  object 
to  each  other,  especially  when  we're  tired,  and 
then  how  we  all  unite  together  on  something  for 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  137 

the  good  of  the  town.  I  tell  you,  it  makes  me 
feel  sometimes  that  the  way  ain't  so  much  to 
try  to  love  each  other, -- which  other  folks' 
peculiarities  is  awful  in  the  way  of, --but  for 
us  all  to  pitch  in  and  love  something  altogether, 
your  town  or  your  young  folks,  or  your 
cemetery  or  keeping  something  clean  or  making 
somethin'  look  nice  —  and  before  you  know  it 
you're  loving  the  folks  you  work  with,  no  matter 
how  peculiar,  or  even  more  so.  It's  been  so 
nice  since  we've  been  working  for  Cemetery. 
Folks  that  make  each  other  mad  every  time 
they  try  to  talk  can  sell  side  by  side  at  the 
same  bazaar  and  count  the  money  mutual. 
There's  quite  a  few  disagreements  in  Sodality, 
so  we  have  to  be  real  careful  who  sets  next  to 
who  to  church  suppers.  But  when  we  pitch 
in  to  work  for  something,  we  sew  rags  and 
'scallop  oysters  in  the  same  pan  with  our  en 
emies.  Don't  it  seem  as  if  that  must  mean 
something  r  Something  big  ? 

"Sodality  voted  to  publish  the  paper,  all 
right,  and  elected  the  officers  for  the  day : 
Editor,  Mis'  Postmaster  Sykes,  'count  of  her 
always  expecting  to  take  the  lead  in  everything ; 
assistant  editor,  me,  'count  of  being  well  and 
able  to  work  like  a  dog ;  business  manager  and 
circulation  man,  Mis'  Holcomb-that-was-Mame- 


138  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

Bliss,  'count  of  no  dime  ever  getting  away 
from  her  unexpected.  And  the  reporters  was 
to  be  most  of  the  rest  of  the  Sodality :  Mis' 
Timothy  Toplady,  the  three  Liberty  girls, 
Mis'  Mayor  Uppers,  Mis'  Fire  Chief  Merriman, 
Mis'  Threat  Hubbelthwait,  an'  Abagail  Arnold, 
that  keeps  the  home  bakery.  It  was  hard  for 
Abagail  to  get  away  from  her  cook  stove  and  her 
counter,  so  we  fixed  it  that  she  was  to  be  let 
off  any  other  literary  work  along  of  her  furnish 
ing  us  our  sandwiches  and  hard-boiled  eggs 
that  day  noon.  It  was  quite  a  little  for  Abagail 
to  do,  but  she's  always  real  willing,  and  we 
didn't  ask  coffee  of  her.  Mis'  Sturgis,  her 
that  is  the  village  invalid,  we  arranged  should 
have  charge  of  the  Woman's  Column,  and  bring 
down  her  rocking  chair  and  make  her  beef 
broth  right  there  on  the  office  wood-stove. 

"I  guess  we  was  all  glad  to  go  down  early 
in  the  morning  that  day,  'count  of  not  meeting 
the  men.  One  and  all  and  with  one  voice  the 
Friendship  men  had  railed  at  us  hearty. 

"'Pack  o'  women!'  says  Silas  Sykes,  over 
and  over. 

"'You  act  like  bein'  a  woman  an'  a  wife 
was  some  kind  o'  nonsense,'  says  Mis'  Sykes 
back  at  him,  majestic.  'Well,  I  guess  bein' 
yours  is.' 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  139 

"'Land,  Amandy,'  says  Timothy  Toplady, 
'you  women  earn  money  so  nervous.  Why 
don't  you  do  it  regular  an'  manly  ?' 

"Only  Eppleby  Holcomb  had  kept  his  si 
lence.  Eppleby  sees  things  that  the  run  of 
men  don't  see,  or,  if  they  did  see  them,  they 
would  be  bound  to  stick  them  in  their  ledgers 
where  they  would  never,  never  belong.  Eppleby 
was  our  friend,  and  Sodality  never  had  truer. 

"So  though  we  went  ahead,  the  men  had 
made  us  real  anxious.  And  most  of  us  slipped 
down  to  the  office  by  half  past  seven  so's  not 
to  meet  too  many.  The  editor  had  had  a 
column  in  the  paper  about  what  we  was  goin' 
to  do--  'Loyal  to  our  Local  Dead'  he  headed 
it,  and  of  course  full  half  the  town  was  kicking 
at  the  extra  ten  cents,  like  full  half  of  any  town 
can  and  will  kick  when  it's  asked  to  pay  out 
for  its  own  good,  dead  or  alive.  But  we  was 
leaving  all  that  to  Mis'  Holcomb,  that  knows 
a  thing  or  two  about  the  human  in  us,  and 
similar. 

"Extra-paper  morning,  when  we  all  come  in, 
Mis'  Sykes  she  was  sitting  at  the  editor's  desk 
with  her  big  apron  on  and  a  green  shade  to 
cover  up  her  crimping  kids,  and  her  list  that  her 
and  Mis'  Toplady  and  I  had  made  out,  in  front 
of  her. 


140  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"'Now  then,  let's  get  right  to  work,'  she  says 
brisk.  'We  ain't  any  too  much  time,  I  can  tell 
you.  It  ain't  like  bakin'  bread  or  gettin'  the 
vegetables  ready.  We've  all  got  to  use  muscles 
this  day  we  ain't  used  to  usin','  she  says,  'an' 
we'd  best  be  spry.' 

"So  then  she  begun  giving  out  who  was  to 
do  what  —  assignments,  the  editor  named  it 
when  he  told  us  what  to  do.  And  I  skipped 
back  an'  hung  over  the  files,  well  knowing  what 
was  to  come. 

"Mis'  Sykes  stood  up  in  her  most  society 
way,  an'  — 

'"Anybody  want  to  back  out?'  says  she, 
gracious. 

"'Land!'  says  everyone  in  a  No-I-don't 
tone. 

"'Very  well,'  says  Mis'  Sykes.  'Mis'  Top- 
lady,  you  go  out  to  Rob  Henney's  place,  an' 
you  go  through  his  cow  sheds  from  one  end 
to  the  other  an'  take  down  notes  so's  he  sees 
you  doin'  it.  You  go  into  his  kitchen  an'  don't 
you  let  a  can  get  by  you.  Open  his  churn. 
Rub  your  finger  round  the  inside  of  his  pans. 
An'  if  he  won't  tell  you,  the  neighbours  will. 
Explain  to  him  you're  goin'  to  give  him  a  nice, 
full  printed  description  in  to-night's  Daily, 
just  the  way  things  are.  If  he  wants  it  changed 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  141 

any,  he  can  clean  all  up,  an'  we'll  write  up  the 
clean-up  like  a  compliment.' 

"Just  for  one  second  them  assembled  women 
was  dumb.  But  it  hardly  took  them  that 
instant  to  sense  what  was  what.  And  all  of  a 
sudden,  Mame  Holcomb,  I  guess  it  was,  bursted 
out  in  a  little  understanding  giggle,  and  after 
a  minute  everybody  joined  in,  too.  For  we'd 
got  the  whole  world  of  Friendship  Village  where 
we  wanted  it,  and  every  one  of  them  women  see 
we  had,  so  be  we  wasn't  scared. 

"Mis'  Uppers,'  Mis'  Sykes  was  going  on, 
'you  go  down  to  Betts's  meat  market.  You 
poke  right  through  into  the  back  room.  An' 
you  tell  Joe  Betts  that  you're  goin'  to  do  a 
write-up  of  that  room  an'  the  alley  back  of  it 
for  the  paper  to-night,  showin'  just  what's 
what.  If  so  be  he  wants  to  turn  in  an'  red  it 
up  this  mornin',  tell  him  you'll  wait  till  noon 
an'  describe  it  then,  providin*  he  keeps  it  that 
way.  An'  you  might  let  him  know  you're 
goin'  to  run  over  to  his  slaughterhouse  an' 
look  around  while  you're  waitin',  an'  put  that 
in  your  write-up,  too.' 

'"Miss  Hubbelthwait,'  Mis'  Sykes  went 
on,  'you  go  over  to  the  Calaboose.  They  won't 
anybody  be  in  the  office  —  Dick's  saloon  is  that. 
Skip  right  through  in  the  back  part,  an'  turn 


142  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

down  the  blankets  on  both  beds  an'  give  a 
thorough  look.  If  it's  true  they's  no  sheets 
an'  pillow-cases  on  the  calaboose  beds,  an'  that 
the  blankets  is  only  washed  three  times  a  year 
so's  to  save  launderin',  we  can  make  a  real 
interestin'  column  about  that.' 

"'Miss  Merriman,'  says  Mis'  Sykes  to  Mis' 
Fire  Chief,  'I've  give  you  a  real  hard  thing 
because  you  do  things  so  delicate.  Will  you 
take  a  walk  along  the  residence  part  of  town  an' 
go  into  every  house  an'  ask  'em  to  let  you  see 
their  back  door  an'  their  garbage  pail.  Tell 
'em  you're  goin'  to  write  a  couple  of  columns  on 
how  folks  manage  this.  Ask  'em  their  idees 
on  the  best  way.  Give  'em  to  understand  if 
there's  a  real  good  way  they're  thinkin'  of  tryin' 
that  you'll  put  that  in,  providin'  they  begin 
tryin'  right  off.  An'  tell  'em  they  can  get  it 
carted  off  for  ten  cents  a  week  if  enough  go 
in  on  it.  An'  be  your  most  delicate,  Mis' 
Fire  Chief,  for  we  don't  want  to  offend  a 
soul.' 

"Libby  an'  Viney  Liberty  Mis'  Sykes  sent 
round  to  take  a  straw  vote  in  every  business 
house  in  town  to  see  how  much  they'd  give 
towards  starting  a  shelf  library  in  the  corner 
of  the  post-office  store,  a  full  list  to  be  printed 
in  order  with  the  amount  or  else  'Not  a  cent' 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  143 

after  each  name.  And  the  rest  of  Sodality 
she  give  urrants  similar  or  even  more  so. 

"'An'  all  o'  you,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  'pick  up 
what  you  can  on  the  way.  And  if  anybody 
starts  in  to  object,  you  tell  'em  you  have  in 
structions  to  make  an  interview  out  of  any  of 
the  interestin'  things  they  say.  And  you  might 
tell  'em  you  don't  want  they  should  be  buried 
in  a  nice  cemetery  if  they  don't  want  to  be.' 

"Well,  sir,  they  started  off  —  some  scairt, 
but  some  real  brave,  too.  And  the  way  they 
went,  we  see  every  one  of  them  meant  business. 

'"But  oh,'  says  Mis'  Sturgis,  fixing  her  medi 
cine  bottles  outside  on  the  window-sill,  'sup- 
posin'  they  can't  do  it.  Supposin'  folks  ain't 
nice  to  'em.  What'll  we  put  in  the  paper 
then?' 

"Mis'  Sykes  drew  herself  up  like  she  does 
sometimes  in  society. 

"'Well,'  she  says,  'supposin'.  Are  we  runnin' 
this  paper  or  ain't  we  ?  There's  nothin'  to  pre 
vent  our  writin'  editorials  about  these  things, 
as  I  see.  Our  husbands  can't  very  well  sue  us 
for  libel,  because  they'd  hev  to  pay  it  themselves. 
Nor  they  can't  put  us  in  prison  for  debt,  be 
cause  who'd  get  their  three  meals  ?  I  can't  see 
but  we're  sure  of  an  interestin'  paper,  anyway.' 

"Then  she  looked  over  at  me  sort  of  sad. 


144  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"Go  on,  Calliope,'  says  she,  'you  know  what 
you've  got  to  do.  Do  it,'  she  says,  'to  the 
bitter  end.' 

"I  knew,  and  I  started  out,  and  I  made 
straight  for  Silas  Sykes,  and  the  post-office 
store.  Silas  wan't  in  the  store,  it  was  so  early ; 
but  he  had  the  floor  all  sprinkled  nice,  and  the 
vegetables  set  out,  all  uncovered,  close  to  the 
sidewalk ;  and  everything  real  tasty  and  accord 
ing  to  grocery-store  etiquette.  The  boy  was 
gone  that  day.  And  Silas  himself  was  in  the 
back  room,  sortin'  over  prunes. 

'" Hello,  Calliope,'  s'he.     'How's  literchoor  ?' 

'"Honest  as  ever,'  I  says.     'Same  with  food  ?' 

'"Who  says  I  ain't  honest?'  says  Silas, 
straightening  up,  an'  holding  all  his  fingers 
stiff  'count  of  being  sticky. 

'"Why,  I  donno  who,'  says  I.  'Had  anybody 
ought  to  ?  How's  business,  Silas  ?' 

"'Well,'  says  he,  'for  us  that  keeps  ourselves 
up  with  the  modern  business  methods,  it's 
pretty  good,  I  guess.' 

"'Do  you  mean  pretty  good,  Silas,  or  do  you 
mean  pretty  paying  ?'  I  ask'  him. 

"Silas  put  on  his  best  official  manner.  'Look 
at  here,'  s'e,  'what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Did 
you  want  to  buy  somethin'  or  did  you  want  your 
mail?' 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  145 

"'Oh,  neither,'  I  says.  'I  want  some  help 
from  you,  Silas,  about  the  paper  to-day.' 

"My,  that  give  Silas  a  nice  minute.  He 
fairly  weltered  in  satisfaction. 

"'Huh,'  he  says,  elegant,  'didn't  I  tell  you 
you  was  bitin'  off  more'n  you  could  chew  ? 
Want  some  assistance  from  me,  do  you,  in 
editin'  this  paper  o'  yours  ?  Well,  I  suppose  I 
can  help  you  out  a  little.  What  is  it  you  want 
me  to  do  for  you  ?' 

'"We  thought  we'd  like  to  write  you  up,' 
I  told  him. 

"Silas  just  swelled.  For  a  man  in  public 
office,  Silas  Sykes  feels  about  as  presidential 
as  anybody  I  ever  see.  If  they  was  to  come  out 
from  the  City  and  put  him  on  the  front  page 
of  the  morning  paper,  he's  the  kind  that  would 
wonder  why  they  hadn't  done  it  before. 

"'Sketch  of  my  life?'  s'e,  genial.  'Little 
outline  of  my  boyhood  ?  Main  points  in  my 
career  ?' 

"'Well,'  I  says,  'no.  We  thought  the  pres- 
ent'd  be  about  all  we'd  hev  room  for.  We  want 
to  write  up  your  business,  Silas,'  I  says,  'in 
an  advertising  way.' 

"'Oh  !'  says  Silas,  snappy.  'You  want  me  to 
pay  to  be  wrote  up,  is  that  it  ?' 

''Well,'  I  says,  'no ;  not  if  you  don't  want  to. 

L 


146  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

Of  course  everybody'll  be  buried  in  the  Ceme 
tery  whether  they  give  anything  towards  the 
fund  for  keeping  it  kep'  up  or  not.' 

"'Lord  Heavens,'  says  Silas,  'I've  had  that 
Cemetery  fund  rammed  down  my  throat  till 
I'm  sick  o'  the  thought  o'  dyinV 

"That  almost  made  me  mad,  seeing  we  was 
having  the  disadvantage  of  doing  the  work  and 
Silas  going  to  get  all  the  advantages  of  burial. 

"'Feel  the  same  way  about  some  of  the  Ten 
Commandments,  don't  you,  Silas  ?'  I  says, 
before  I  knew  it. 

"Silas  just  rared. 

'"The  Ten  Commandments!'  says  he,  'the 
Ten  Commandments  !  Who  can  show  me  one 
I  ain't  a-keepin'  like  an  old  sheep.  Didn't 
I  honour  my  father  an'  mother  as  long  as  I  had 
'em  ?  Did  they  ever  buy  anything  of  me  at 
more  than  cost  ?  Didn't  I  give  'em  new  clothes 
an'  send  'em  boxes  of  oranges  an'  keep  up  their 
life  insurance  ?  Do  I  ever  come  down  to  the 
store  on  the  Sabbath  Day  ?  Do  I  ever  distrib 
ute  the  mail  then,  even  if  I'm  expectin'  a 
letter  myself  ?  The  Sabbath  I  locked  the  cat 
in,  didn't  I  send  the  boy  down  to  let  it  out,  for 
fear  I'd  be  misjudged  if  I  done  it  ?  Who  do  I 
ever  bear  false  witness  against  unless  I  know 
they've  done  what  I  say  they've  done  ?  I 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  147 

can't  kill  a  fly  —  an'  I'm  that  tender-hearted 
that  I  make  the  hired  girl  take  the  mice  out  o' 
the  trap  because  I  can't  bring  myself  to  do  it. 
So  you  might  go  through  the  whole  list  an' 
just  find  me  workin'  at  'em  an'  a-keepin'  'em. 
What  do  you  mean  about  the  Ten  Command 
ments  ?'  he  ends  up,  ready  to  burst. 

"'Don't  ask  me,'  I  says.  'I  ain't  that  fa 
miliar  with  'em.  I  didn't  know  anybody  was. 
Go  on  about  'em.  Take  stealing  —  you  hadn't 
got  to  that  one.' 

"'Stealing,3  says  Silas,  pompous.  'I  don't 
know  what  it  is.' 

"And  with  that  I  was  up  on  my  feet. 

"'I  thought  you  didn't,'  says  I.  'Us  ladies  of 
Sodality  have  all  thought  it  over  an'  over 
again :  That  you  don't  know  stealing  when 
you  see  it.  No,  nor  not  even  when  you've 
done  it.  Come  here,  Silas  Sykes  !'  I  says. 

"I  whipped  by  him  into  the  store,  and  he 
followed  me,  sheer  through  being  dazed,  and 
keeping  still  through  being  knocked  dumb. 

"'Look  here,'  I  says,  'here's  your  counter  of 
bakery  stuff  -  -  put  in  to  take  from  Abagail, 
but  no  matter  about  that  now.  Where  do  you 
get  it  ?  From  the  City,  with  the  label  stuck  on. 
What's  the  bakery  like  where  you  buy  it  ? 
It's  under  a  sidewalk  and  dust  dirty,  and  I 


148  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

happen  to  know  you  know  it.  And  look  at  the 
bread  —  not  a  thing  over  it,  flies  promenadin' 
on  the  crust,  and  you  counting  out  change  on 
an  apple-pie  the  other  day  —  I  see  you  do  it. 
Look  at  your  dates,  all  uncovered  and  dirt 
from  the  street  sticking  to  them  like  the  pattern. 
Look  at  your  fly-paper,  hugged  up  against  your 
dried-fruit  box  that's  standing  wide  open.  Look 
at  you  keeping  fish  and  preserved  fruit  and 
canned  stuff  that  you  know  is  against  the  law 
—  going  to  start  keeping  the  law  quick  as  you 
get  these  sold  out,  ain't  you,  Silas  ?  Look  at 
your  stuff  out  there  in  front,  full  of  street  dirt 
and  flies  and  ready  to  feed  folks.  And  you 
keepin'  the  Ten  Commandments  like  an  old 
sheep  —  and  being  a  church  elder,  and  you 
might  better  climb  porches  and  bust  open 
safes.  I  s'pose  you  wonder  what  I'm  sayin' 
all  this  to  you  for  ?' 

"'No,  ma'am,'  says  Silas,  like  the  edge  o' 
something,  'I  don't  wonder  at  your  sayin' 
anything  to  anybody.' 

'"I've  got  more  to  say,'  I  says,  dry.  'I've 
only  give  you  a  sample.  An'  the  place  I'm 
goin'  to  say  it  is  The  Friendship  Village  Even 
ing  Daily,  Extra,  to-night,  in  a  descriptive 
write-up  of  you  and  your  store.  I  thought  it 
might  interest  you  to  know.' 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  149 

"'It's  libel  —  it's  libel!'  says  Silas,  arms 
waving. 

"'All  right,'  says  I,  liberating  a  fly  accident 
ally  caught  on  a  date.  'Who  you  going  to  sue  ? 
Your  wife,  that's  the  editor  ?  And  everybody 
else's  wife,  that's  doing  the  same  thing  to  every 
behind-the-times  dealer  in  town  ?' 

"Silas  hung  on  to  that  straw. 

"'Be  they  doin'  it  to  the  others,  too?'  he 
asks. 

"Then  I  told  him. 

"'Yes,'  I  says,  'Silas,  only  —  they  ain't  goin' 
to  start  writing  up  the  descriptions  till  noon. 
And  if  you  --  and  they  all  —  want  to  clean 
up  the  temples  where  you  do  business  and  make 
them  fit  for  the  Lord  to  look  down  on  and  a 
human  being  to  come  into,  you've  got  your 
chance.  And  seeing  your  boy  is  gone  to-day, 
if  you'll  do  it,  I'll  stay  and  help  you  with  it  — 
and  mebbe  make  room  for  some  of  the  main 
points  in  your  career  as  well,'  says  I,  sly. 

"Silas  looked  out  the  door,  his  arms  folded 
and  his  beard  almost  pointing  up,  he'd  made  his 
chin  so  firm.  And  just  in  that  minute  when  I 
was  feeling  that  all  the  law  and  the  prophets, 
and  the  health  of  Friendship  Village,  and  the 
life  of  people  not  born,  was  hanging  around  that 
man's  neck  —  or  the  principle  of  them,  any- 


ISO  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

way  -  -  Silas's  eye  and  mine  fell  on  a  strange 
sight.  Across  the  street,  from  out  Joe  Betts's 
meat  market  come  Joe  Betts,  and  behind  him 
his  boy.  And  Joe  begun  pointing,  and  the  boy 
begun  taking  down  quarters  of  beef  hung  over 
the  sidewalk.  Joe  pointed  consid'able.  And 
then  he  clim'  up  on  his  meat  wagon  that  stood 
by  the  door,  and  out  of  the  shop  I  see  Mis' 
Mayor  Uppers  come,  looking  ready  to  drop. 
And  she  clim'  up  to  the  seat  beside  him --he 
reaching  down  real  gentlemanly  to  help  her  up. 
And  he  headed  his  horse  around  on  what  I 
guessed  was  a  bee-line  for  the  slaughterhouse. 

"Well,  sir,  at  that,  Silas  Sykes  put  his  hands 
on  his  knees  and  bent  over  and  begun  laughing. 
And  he  laughed  like  I  ain't  seen  him  since  he's 
got  old  and  begun  to  believe  that  life  ain't 
cut  after  his  own  plan  that  he  made.  And  I 
laughed  a  little,  too,  out  of  sheer  being  glad 
that  a  laugh  can  settle  so  many  things  right 
in  the  world.  And  when  he  sobered  down  a 
little,  I  says  gentle  :  — 

"'Silas,  I'll  throw  out  the  dates  and  the  dusty 
lettuce.  And  we'll  hev  it  done  in  no  time. 
I'll  be  glad  to  get  an  early  start  on  the  write-up. 
I  don't  compose  very  ready,'  I  told  him. 

"He  was  awful  funny  while  we  done  the  work. 
He  was  awful  still,  too.  Once  when  I  lit  on  a 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  151 

piece  of  salt  pork  that  I  knew,  first  look,  was 
rusty,  'Them  folks  down  on  the  flats  buys  it,' 
he  says.  'They  like  it  just  as  good  as  new- 
killed.'  'All  right,'  s'l,  careless,  Til  make  a 
note  of  that  to  shine  in  my  article.  It  needs 
humour  some,'  s'l.  Then  Silas  swore,  soft  and 
under  his  breath,  as  an  elder  should,  but  quite 
vital.  And  he  took  the  pork  out  to  the  alley 
barrel,  an'  I  sprinkled  ashes  on  it  so's  he  shouldn't 
slip  out  and  save  it  afterwards. 

"It  was  'leven  o'clock  when  we  got  done,  me 
having  swept  out  behind  the  counters  myself, 
and  Silas  he  mopped  his  face  and  stood  hauling 
at  his  collar. 

"'I'll  get  on  my  white  kids  now,'  s'e,  dry.  'I 
can't  go  pourin'  kerosene  an'  slicin'  cheese 
in  this  place  barehanded  any  more.  Gosh,' 
he  says,  'I  bet  when  they  see  it,  they'll  want 
to  have  church  in  here  this  comin'  Sunday.' 

"'No  need  to  be  sacrilegious,  as  I  know  of, 
Silas,'  s'l,  sharp. 

"'No  need  to  be  livin'  at  all,  as  I  see,'  says 
Silas,  morbid ;  'just  lay  low  an'  other  folks'll 
step  in  an'  do  it  for  you,  real  capable.' 

"I  give  him  the  last  word.  I  thought  it 
was  his  man's  due. 

"When  I  got  back  to  the  office,  Libby  Lib 
erty  an'  Mis'  Toplady  was  there  before  me. 


152  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

They  was  both  setting  on  high  stools  up  to  the 
file  shelf,  with  their  feet  tucked  up,  an'  the 
reason  was  that  Viney  Liberty  was  mopping 
the  floor.  She  had  a  big  pail  of  suds  and  her 
skirt  pinned  up,  and  she  was  just  lathering 
them  boards.  Mis'  Sykes  at  the  main  desk 
was  still  labouring 'over  her  editorials,  breathing 
hard,  the  boards  steaming  soap  all  around  her. 

'"I  couldn't  stand  it,'  Viney  says.  'How  a 
man  can  mould  public  opinion  in  a  place  where 
the  floor  is  pot-black  gets  me.  My  land,  my 
ash  house  is  a  dinin'  room  side  of  this  room,  an' 
the  window  was  a  regular  gray  frost  with  dust. 
Ain't  men  the  funniest  lot  of  folks  ?'  she  says. 

"'Funny,'  says  I,  'but  awful  amiable  if  you 
kind  of  sing  their  key-note  to  'em.' 

"Mis'  Sykes  pulled  my  skirt. 

"'How  was  he  ?'  she  asks  in  a  pale  voice. 

"'He  was  crusty,'  says  I,  triumphant,  'but 
he's  beat.' 

"She  never  smiled.  'Calliope  Marsh,'  says 
she,  cold,  'if  you've  sassed  my  husband,  I'll 
never  forgive  you.' 

"I  tell  you,  men  may  be  some  funny,  and 
often  are.  But  women  is  odd  as  Dick's  hatband 
and  I  don't  know  but  odder. 

"'How'd  you  get  on  ?'  I  says  to  Mis'  Toplady 
and  the  Libertys.  The  Libertys  they  handed 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  153 

out  a  list  on  two  sheets,  both  sides  with  sums 
ranging  from  ten  to  fifty  cents  towards  a  shelf 
library  for  public  use ;  but  Mis'  Toplady,  the 
tears  was  near  streaming  down  her  cheeks. 

"'Rob  Henney,'  she  says,  mournful,  'gimme 
to  understand  he'd  see  me  in  —  some  place  he 
hadn't  ought  to  of  spoke  of  to  me,  nor  to  no 
one  —  before  I  could  get  in  his  milk  sheds.' 

'"What  did  you  say  to  him?'  I  ask',  sym 
pathetic. 

'"I  t-told  him,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  'that 
lookin'  for  me  wouldn't  be  the  only  reason  he'd 
hev  for  goin'  there.  And  then  he  said  some 
more.  He  said  he'd  be  in  here  this  afternoon 
to  stop  his  subscription  off.' 

"'So  you  didn't  get  a  thing  ?'  I  says,  grieving 
for  her,  but  Mis'  Toplady,  she  bridled  through 
her  tears. 

"'I  got  a  column  !'  she  flashed  out.  'I  put 
in  about  the  sheds,  that  the  whole  town  knows, 
anyway,  an'  I  put  in  what  he  said  to  me.  An' 
I'm  goin'  to  read  it  to  him  when  he  comes  in. 
An'  after  that  he  can  take  his  pick  about  havin' 
it  published,  or  else  cleanin'  up  an'  allowin' 
Sodality  to  inspect  him  reg'lar.' 

"By  just  before  twelve  o'clock  we  was  all 
back  in  the  office,  Mis'  Fire  Chief,  Mis'  Uppers, 
fresh  from  the  slaughterhouse,  and  so  on,  all 


154  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

but  Mame  Holcomb  that  was  out  seeing  to 
the  circulation.  And  I  tell  you  we  set  to  work 
in  earnest,  some  of  us  to  the  desks,  and  some 
of  us  working  on  their  laps,  and  everybody 
hurrying  hectic.  The  office  was  awful  hot  — 
Mis'  Sturgis  had  built  up  a  little  light  fire  to 
heat  up  her  beef  broth,  and  she  was  stirring  it, 
her  shawl  folded  about  her,  in  between  writing 
receipts.  But  it  made  it  real  confusing,  all  of 
us  doing  our  best  so  hard,  and  wanting  to  tell 
each  other  what  had  happened,  and  seeing  about 
spelling  and  all. 

"'Land,  land,'  says  Alis'  Fire  Chief  Merri- 
man,  'you'd  ought  to  see  the  Carters'  back  door. 
They  wan't  nobody  to  home  there,  so  I  just 
took  a  look,  anyway,  bein'  it  was  for  Sodality, 
so.  They  ain't  no  real  garbage  pail  —  ' 

"'Who  said,  "Give  me  Liberty  or  give  me 
Death?'"  ask'  Mis'  Sykes,  looking  up  kind  o' 
glassy.  'Was  it  Daniel  Webster  or  Daniel 
Boone  ?' 

"'Ladies,'  says  Mis'  Hubbelthwait,  when 
we'd  settled  down  on  Daniel  Boone,  'if  I  ever 
do  a  crime,  I  won't  stop  short  at  stealin'  some 
body's  cow  an'  goin'  to  calaboose.  I'll  do  a 
whole  beef  corner,  or  some  real  United  States 
sin,  an'  get  put  in  a  place  that's  clean.  Why 
over  to  the  calaboose  —  ' 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  155 

'"Ugh  !'  says  Mis'  Uppers,  'don't  say  "beef" 
when  I'm  where  I  can  hear.  I  donno  what  I'll 
do  without  my  steak,  but  do  it  I  will.  Ladies, 
the  cleanest  of  us  is  soundin'  brass  an'  tinklin' 
cannibals.  Why  do  they  call  'em  tinklin'  can 
nibals  ?'  she  wondered  to  us  all. 

'"Oh — ,'  wailed  Mis'  Sturgis  in  the  rocking- 
chair,  'some  of  you  ladies  give  me  your  salad 
dressing  receipt.  Mine  is  real  good  on  salad, 
but  on  paper  it  don't  sound  fit  to  eat.  I  don't 
seem  to  have  no  book-style  about  me  to-day.' 

'"How  do  you  spell  embarrass?'  asked  Libby 
Liberty.  'Is  it  an  r  an'  two  s's  or  two  r's  and 
an  s  ?' 

"'It's  two  s's  at  the  end,  so  it  must  be  one 
r,'  volunteers  Mis'  Sykes.  'That  used  to  mix 
me  up  some,  too.' 

"Just  then  up  come  Abagail  Arnold  bring 
ing  the  noon  lunch,  and  she  had  the  sandwiches 
and  the  eggs  not  only,  but  a  pot  of  hot  coffee 
thrown  in,  and  a  basket  of  doughnuts,  sugared. 
She  set  them  out  on  Mis'  Sykes's  desk,  and  we 
all  laid  down  our  pencils  and  drew  up  on  our 
high  stools  and  swing  chairs,  Mis'  Sturgis  and 
all,  and  nothing  in  the  line  of  food  had  ever 
looked  so  welcoming. 

'"Oh,  the  eatableness  of  nice  refreshments  !' 
says  Mis'  Toplady,  sighing. 


156  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"'This  is  when  it  ain't  victuals,  its  viands,' 
says  Mis'  Sykes,  showing  pleased. 

"But  well  do  I  remember,  we  wasn't  started 
to  eat,  and  Abagail  still  doing  the  pouring, 
when  the  composing  room  door  opened  -  -  I 
donno  why  they  called  it  that,  for  we  done  the 
composing  in  the  office,  and  they  only  got  out 
the  paper  in  there  —  and  in  come  the  foreman, 
with  an  apron  of  bed-ticking.  He  was  Riddy 
Styles,  that  we  all  knew  him. 

"'Excuse  me,'  he  says,  hesitating,  'but  us 
fellows  thought  we'd  ought  to  mention  that  we 
can't  get  no  paper  out  by  quittin'  time  if  we 
don't  get  a-hold  of  some  copy  pretty  quick.' 

"'Copy  o'  what  ?'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  our  editor. 

"'Why,  copy,'  says  Riddy.  'Stuff  for  the 
paper.' 

"Mis'  Sykes  looked  at  him,  majestic. 

"'Stuff, '  she  says.  'You  will  please  to  speak,' 
she  says,  '  more  respectfully  than  that  to 
us  ladies,  Mr.  Styles.' 

"'It  was  meant  right,'  says  Riddy,  stubborn. 
'It's  the  word  we  always  use.' 

'"It  ain't  the  word  you  use,  not  with  us,' 
says  Mis'  Sykes,  womanly. 

"'Well,'  says  Riddy,  'we'd  ought  to  get  to 
settin'  up  somethin'  by  half  past  twelve,  if 
we  start  in  on  the  dictionary.' 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  157 

"Then  he  went  off  to  his  dinner,  and  the 
other  men  with  him,  and  Mis'  Sykes  leaned 
back  limp. 

"'I  been  writin'  steady,'  she  says,  'since  half 
past  eight  o'  clock  this  mornin',  an'  I've  only 
got  one  page  an'  one-half  composed.' 

"We  ask'  each  other  around,  and  none  of 
us  was  no  more  then  started,  let  be  it  was  Mis' 
Toplady,  that  had  got  in  first. 

'"  Le's  us  leave  our  lunch,' says  Mis'  Sykes, 
then.  'Le's  us  leave  it  un-et.  Abagail,  you 
put  it  back  in  the  basket  an'  pour  the  coffee 
into  the  pot.  An'  le's  us  write.  Wouldn't  we 
all  rather  hev  one  of  our  sick  headaches,'  she 
says,  firm,  'than  mebbe  make  ourselves  the 
Laughing  Stock  ?  Ladies,  I  ask  you.' 

"An'  we  woulded,  one  and  all.  Sick  head 
aches  don't  last  long,  but  laughed-at  has  regular 
right  down  eternal  life. 

"Ain't  it  strange  how  slow  the  writing  mus 
cles  and  such  is,  that  you  don't  use  often  ? 
Pitting  cherries,  splitting  squash,  peeling  po 
tatoes,  slicing  apples,  making  change  at  church 
suppers,  —  us  ladies  is  lightning  at  'em  all.  But 
getting  idees  down  on  paper  —  I  declare  if  it  ain't 
more  like  waiting  around  for  your  bread  to  raise 
on  a  cold  morning.  Still  when  you're  worried, 
you  can  press  forward  more  than  normal,  and 


158  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

among  us  we  had  quite  some  material  ready  for 
Riddy  and  the  men  when  they  came  back.  But 
not  Mis'  Sykes.  She  wan't  getting  on  at  all. 

"'If  I  could  only  talk  it,'  she  says,  grieving, 
1  or  I  donno  if  I  could  even  do  that.  What  I 
want  to  say  is  in  me,  rarin'  around  my  head  like 
life,  an'  yet  I  can't  get  it  out  no  more'n  money 
out  of  a  tin  bank.  I  shall  disgrace  Sodality,' 
she  says,  wild. 

"'Cheer  up,'  says  Libby  Liberty,  soothing. 
*  Nobody  ever  reads  the  editorials,  anyway.  I 
ain't  read  one  in  years.' 

"'You  tend  to  your  article,'  snaps  Mis'  Sykes. 

"I  had  got  my  write-up  of  Silas  all  turned  in 
to  Riddy,  and  I  was  looking  longing  at  Abagail's 
basket,  when,  banging  the  door,  in  come  some 
body  breathing  like  raging,  and  it  was  Rob 
Henney,  that  I  guess  we'd  all  forgot  about  ex 
cept  it  was  Mis'  Toplady  that  was  waiting  for 
him. 

"Rob  Henney  always  talks  like  he  was  long 
distance. 

'"I  come  in,'  he  says,  blustering,  'I  come  in 
to  quit  off  my  subscription  to  this  fool  paper, 
that  a  lot  o'  fool  women  — ' 

"Mis'  Sykes  looks  up  at  him  out  from  under 
her  hand  that  her  head  was  resting  on. 

"'Go  on  out  o'  here,  Mr.  Henney,'  she  says 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  159 

sharp  to  him,  'an'  quit  your  subscription  quiet. 
Can't  you  see  you're  disturbing  us  ? '  she  says. 

"With  that  Mis'  Toplady  wheeled  around 
on  her  high  stool  ^and  looked  at  him,  calm  as  a 
clock. 

'"Rob  Henney,'  says  she,  'you  come  over  here. 
I'll  read  you  what  I've  wrote  about  you,'  she 
told  him. 

"The  piece  begun  like  this  :  — 

" '  Rob  Henney,  our  esteemed  fellow-townsman 
and  milkman,  was  talked  with  this  morning 
on  his  cow  sheds.  The  reporter  said  to  same 
that  what  was  wanting  would  be  visiting  the 
stables,  churn,  cans,  pans,  and  like  that,  being 
death  is  milked  out  of  most  cows  if  they  are  not 
kept  clean  and  inspected  regular  for  signs  of 
consumption.  Mr.  Henney  replied  as  follows  : 

'"First:  That  his  cows  had  never  been  in 
spected  because  nothing  of  that  kind  had  ever 
been  necessary. 

'"Second:  That  he  was  in  the  milk  business 
for  a  living,  and  did  the  town  expect  him  to  keep 
it  in  milk  for  its  health  ? 

"'Third:  That  folks  had  been  drinking  milk 
since  milk  begun,  and  if  the  Lord  saw  fit  to  call 
them  home,  why  not  through  milk,  or  even 
through  consumption,  as  well  as  through  pneu 
monia  and  others  ? 


160  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

"'Fourth:  That  he  would  see  the  reporter 
—  a  lady  -  -  in  the  lake-that-burneth-with-fire 
before  his  sheds  and  churn  and  pans  and  cans 
should  be  put  in  the  paper. 

"'Below  is  how  the  sheds,  churn,  pans,  and 
cans  look  to-day.  .  .  .'  And  I  tell  you,  Mis' 
Toplady,  she  didn't  spare  no  words.  When 
she  meant  What,  she  said  What,  elaborate. 

"I  didn't  know  for  a  minute  but  we'd  hev  to 
mop  Rob  up  off  the  clean  floor.  But  Mis' 
Toplady  she  never  forgot  who  she  was. 

'"Either  that  goes  in  the  paper  to-night,' 
she  says,  'or  you'll  clean  up  your  milk  sur- 
roundin's  —  pick  your  choice.  An'  Sodality's 
through  with  you  if  you  don't,  besides.' 

'"Put  it  in  print!  Put  it  in  print,  if  you 
dast!'  yells  Rob,  wind-milling  his  arms  some. 

'"No  need  to  make  an  earthquake  o'  your 
self,'  Mis'  Toplady  points  out  to  him,  serene. 

"And  at  that  Rob  adds  a  word  intending  to 
express  a  cussing  idee,  and  he  outs  and  down  the 
stairs.  And  Mis'  Toplady  starts  to  take  her  ar 
ticle  right  in  to  Riddy.  But  in  the  door  she  met 
Riddy,  hurrying  into  the  office  again.  I  never 
see  anybody  before  that  looked  both  red  and 
haggard,  but  Riddy  did.  He  come  right  to  the 
point :  — 

"'Some  of  you  ladies  has  got  to  quit  handing 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  161 

in  —  news,'  he  says,  scrabbling  for  a  word  to 
please  Mis'  Sykes.  '  We're  up  to  our  eyes  in 
here  now.  An'  there  ain't  enough  room  in  the 
paper,  either,  not  without  you  get  out  eight  pages 
or  else  run  a  supplement  or  else  throw  away  the 
whole  patent  inside.  An'  those  ways,  we  ain't 
got  enough  type  even  if  we  had  time  to  burn.' 

"Mis'  Sykes  pushed  back  her  green  shade, 
looking  just  chased. 

"'What  does  he  mean  ?'  she  says.  'Can't  he 
tend  to  his  type  and  things  with  us  doing  all  the 
work  ?' 

"Riddy  took  this  real  nettlish. 

"'I  mean,'  s'he,  clear  but  brutal,  'you  got 
to  cut  your  stuff  somewheres  to  the  tune  of  a 
couple  o'  columns.' 

"Well,  it's  hard  to  pick  out  which  colour  you'll 
take  when  you  have  a  new  dress  only  once  in 
every  so  seldom ;  or  which  of  your  hens  you'll 
kill  when  you  know  your  chickens  like  you 
know  your  own  mind ;  but  these  are  nothing 
to  the  time  we  had  deciding  on  what  to 
omit  out  of  the  paper  that  night.  And  the 
decision  hurt  us  even  more  than  the  deciding, 
for  what  we  left  out  was  Mis'  Sturgis's  two 
women's  columns. 

'"We  can't  leave  out  meat  nor  milk  nor  clean 
liness  nor  the  library,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  reason- 


162  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

able,  '  because  them  are  the  things  we  live  by. 
An'  so  with  the  other  write-ups  we  got  planned. 
But  receipts  and  patterns  an'  moth  balls  is  only 
kind  o'  decorations,  seems  though.  Besides,  we 
all  know  about  'em,  an'  it's  time  we  stopped 
talkin'  about  'em,  anyway.' 

"Mis'  Sturgis  she  cried  a  little  on  the  corner  of 
her  shawl. 

"'The  receipts  an'  patterns  an'  moth  balls  is 
so  w-womanly,'  she  says. 

"Mis'  Toplady  whirled  round  at  her. 

"'If  you  know  anything  more  womanly  than 
conquerin'  dirt  an'  disease  an'  the-dead-that- 
needn't-die,'  s'she,  Til  roll  up  my  sleeves  an' 
be  into  it.  But  it  won't  be  eyelet  embroidery  nor 
yet  boiled  frostin'  ! ' 

"After  that  they  wrote  in  hasty  peace,  though 
four  o'clock  come  racing  across  the  day  like  a 
runaway  horse,  and  us  not  out  of  its  way.  And 
a  few  minutes  past,  when  Riddy  was  waiting  in 
the  door  for  Mis'  Sykes's  last  page,  somebody 
most  knocked  him  over,  and  there  come  Mis' 
Holcomb,  our  circulation  editor,  purple  and 
white,  like  a  ghost. 

'"Lock  the  door  —  lock  it ! '  she  says.  'I've 
bolted  the  one  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  Lock 
both  outside  ones  an'  lay  yourselves  low  !'  s'she. 

"Riddy  an'  I  done  the  locking,  me  well  know- 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  163 

ing  Mis'  Holcomb  couldn't  give  a  false  alarm 
no  more  than  a  map  could. 

"'What  is  it?'  we  says,  pressing  Mis'  Hol 
comb  to  speak,  that  couldn't  even  breathe. 

"'Oh,  ladies,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb,  'they've 
rejoined  us,  or  whatever  it  is  they  do.  I  mean 
they're  going  to  rejoin  us  from  gettin'  out 
to-night's  paper.  The  sheriff  or  the  coroner 
or  whoever  it  is  they  have,  is  comin'  with  in 
junctions  --  is  that  like  handcuffs,  do  you 
know  ?  An'  it's  Rob  Henney's  doin'.  Eppleby 
told  me.  An'  I  run  down  the  alley  an'  beat  'em 
to  it.  They're  most  here.  Let's  us  slap  into 
print  what's  wrote  an'  be  ready  with  the  papers 
the  livin'  minute  we  can.' 

"Mis'  Sykes  had  shoved  her  green  shade  onto 
the  back  of  her  head,  and  her  crimping  pins  was 
all  showing  forth. 

:'What  good'll  it  do  us  to  get  the  paper  out?' 
says  she,  in  a  numb  voice.  'We  can't  distribute 
'em  around  to  no  one  with  the  sheriff  to  the 
front  door  with  them  things  to  put  on  us.' 

"Then  Mis'  Holcomb  smiled,  with  her  eyes 
shut,  where  she  sat,  breathing  so  hard  it  showed 
through. 

"I  come  in  the  coal  door,  at  the  alley,'  s'  she. 
'They'll  never  think  o'  that.  Besides,  the 
crowd'll  be  in  front  an'  the  carrier  boys  too,  an' 


164  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

they'll  want  to  show  off  out  there.  An'  Eppleby 
knows  —  he  told  me  to  come  in  that  way  —  an' 
he'll  keep  'em  interested  out  in  front.  Le's 
us  each  take  the  papers,  an'  out  the  coal  door, 
an'  distribute  'em  around,  ourselves,  without 
the  boys,  an'  collect  in  the  money  same  time.' 

"And  that  was  how  we  done.  For  when 
they  come  to  the  door  and  found  it  locked,  they 
pounded  a  little  to  show  who  was  who  and  who 
wan't  and  then  they  waited  out  there  calm 
enough,  thinking  to  stop  us  when  the  papers 
come  down  would  be  plenty  time.  They  waited 
out  there,  calm  and  sure,  while  upstairs  Bedlam 
went  on,  but  noiseless.  And  after  us  ladies  was 
done  with  our  part,  we  sat  huddled  up  in  the 
office,  soothing  Mis'  Sturgis  and  each  other. 

"'In  one  sentence,'  Mis'  Holcomb  says,  'Ep 
pleby  says  Rob  Henney  was  going  to  put  in 
junctions  on  us.  An'  in  the  next  he  says  he  was 
goin'  to  serve  'em.  What  did  he  mean  by  that, 
do  you  s'pose  ?' 

'"I  donnowhat  he  meant,'  says  Mis'  Toplady, 
'but  I  wouldn't  have  anything  to  do  with  any 
thing  Rob  Henney  served.' 

"That  made  us  think  of  Abagail's  lunch, 
laying  un-et  in  the  basket.  They  wasn't  none 
of  us  felt  like  eating,  but  Mis'  Sturgis  says  she 
bet  if  we  didn't  eat  it,  Abagail  would  feel  she 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  165 

hadn't  had  no  part  in  writing  the  paper  like  us, 
and  so  we  broke  off  a  little  something  once 
around ;  but  food  didn't  have  much  fun  for  us, 
not  then.  And  nothing  did  up  to  the  minute 
the  paper  was  done,  and  we  was  all  ready  to  sly 
out  the  alley  door. 

"With  Sodality  and  Riddy  Styles  and  the 
composing-room  men  we  had  above  twenty 
carriers.  Riddy  and  the  men  helped  us,  one 
and  all,  because  of  course  the  paper  was  a  little 
theirs,  too,  and  they  was  interested  and  liked 
the  lark.  Land,  land,  I  ain't  felt  so  young  or 
so  wicked  as  I  done  getting  out  that  alley  door. 
There's  them  I  wish  could  see  that  there's  just 
as  much  fun  keeping  secret  about  something 
that  may  be  good  as  in  being  sly  about  something 
regular  bad. 

"When  we  finally  got  outside  it  was  supper- 
time  and  summer  seeming,  and  the  hour  was  all 
sweet  and  frank,  and  the  whole  village  was  buried 
in  its  evening  fried  mush  and  potatoes,  or  else 
sprinkling  their  front  yards.  I  donno  how  it 
was  with  the  others,  but  I  know  I  went  along 
the  streets  seeing  through  them  little  houses 
like  they  was  glass,  and  seeing  the  young 
folks  eating  their  suppers  and  growing  up  and 
getting  ready  to  live  and  to  be.  And  in  us 
ladies'  arms,  in  them  heavy  papers,  it  seemed 


166  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

to  me  we  was  carrying  new  life  to  them,  in  little 
ways  --in  little  ways,  but  ways  that  was  going 
to  be  big  with  meaning.  And  I  felt  as  if  some 
thing  in  me  kind  of  snuggled  up  closer  to  the 
way  things  was  meant  to  be. 

"Us  that  went  west  got  clear  the  whole  length 
of  Daphne  Street  without  anybody  seeing  what 
we  was  doing,  or  else  believing  that  we  was 
doing  it  orderly  and  legitimate.  And  away 
out  by  the  Pump  pasture,  we  started  in  dis 
tributing,  and  we  come  working  down  town, 
handing  out  papers  to  the  residence  part  like 
mad  and  taking  in  dimes  like  wild.  They  was 
so  many  of  us,  and  the  Evening  Daily  office 
was  so  located,  that  by  the  time  Mis'  Sykes 
and  Mis'  Toplady  and  I  come  around  the  corner 
where  the  men  and  Rob  Henney  and  the  re- 
joiners  and  the  carriers  was  loafing,  waiting, 
smoking,  and  secure,  we  didn't  have  many 
papers  left.  And  we  three  was  the  first  ones 
back. 

"'Evenin'  paper  ?'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  casual. 
' Friendship  Village  Evenin'  Daily,  Extra?  All 
the  news  for  a  dime  ? ' 

"Never  have  I  see  a  man  so  truly  flabbergasted 
as  Rob  Henney,  and  he  did  look  like  death. 

'"You're  rejoined  !'  he  yelled,  or  whatever  it 
is  they  say — 'you're  rejoined  by  law  from 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  167 

printin'  your  papers  or  from  deestributin'  the 
same.' 

"'Why,  Rob  Henney,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  'no 
call  to  show  fight  like  that.  Half  the  town  is 
readin'  its  papers  by  now.  They've  been  out 
for  three-quarters  of  an  hour,'  she  says. 

"Then  soft  and  faint  and  acrost  the  street,  we 
heard  somebody  laugh,  and  then  kind  of  spat 
hands  ;  and  we  all  looked  up.  And  there  in  the 
open  upstairs  window  of  the  building  opposite, 
we  see  leaning  out  Eppleby  Holcomb  and  Tim 
othy  Toplady  and  Silas  Sykes.  And  when  we 
crossed  eyes,  they  all  made  a  little  cheer  like  a 
theatre ;  and  then  they  come  clumping  down 
stairs  and  acrost  to  where  we  was. 

"'Won  out,  didn't  you,  by  heck  !'  says  Silas, 
that  can  only  see  that  far. 

"'Blisterin'  Benson,'  says  Timothy,  gleeful. 
i  I  say  we  ain't  got  no  cause  to  regret  our  wifes' 
brains.' 

"But  Eppleby,  he  never  said  a  word.  He 
just  smiled  slow  and  a-looking  past  us.  And 
we  knew  that  from  the  beginning  he  had  seen 
our  whole  plan,  face  to  face. 

"Mis'  Sykes  and  Mis'  Toplady  and  me,  see 
ing  how  Rob  Henney  stood  muttering  and  beat, 
and  seeing  how  the  day  had  gone,  and  seeing 
what  was  what  in  the  world  and  in  all  outside 


i68  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

of  it,  we  looked  at  each  other,  dead  tired,  and 
real  happy,  and  then  we  just  dragged  along  home 
to  our  kitchens  and  went  to  cooking  supper. 
But  oh,  it  wasn't  our  same  old  kitchens  nor  it 
wasn't  our  same  old  Friendship  Village.  We 
was  in  places  newer  and  better  and  up  higher, 
where  we  see  how  things  are,  and  how  life  would 
get  more  particular  about  us  if  we'd  get  par 
ticular  about  some  more  of  life. 


VII 

"WELL,  of  course  then  we  had  Sixty  Dollars 
or  so  to  spend,  and  Sodality  never  could  rest  a 
minute  when  it  had  money  to  do  with  if  it 
wasn't  doing  it,  any  more  than  it  could  rest  when 
it  had  something  to  do  and  no  money  to  do  with. 
It  made  a  nice,  active  circle.  Wishing  for 
dreams  to  come  true,  and  then,  when  they  do 
come  true,  making  the  true  things  sprout  more 
dreams,  is  another  of  them  circles.  I  always 
think  they're  what  keeps  us  a-going,  not  only 
immortal  but  busy. 

"And  then  with  us  there's  another  reason  for 
voting  our  money  prompt.  As  soon  as  we've 
made  any  and  the  news  has  got  out  around,  it's 
happened  two-three  times  that  somebody  has 
put  in  an  application  for  a  headstone  for  some 
body  dead  that  can't  afford  one.  The  first  time 
that  was  done  the  application  was  made  by  the 
wife  of  a  harness  maker  that  had  a  little  shop 
in  the  back  street  and  had  been  saving  up  his 
money  for  a  good  tombstone.  *  I  ain't  had 
much  of  a  position  here  in  life,'  he  used  to  say. 
4 1  never  was  pointed  out  as  a  leading  citizen. 

169 


i  yo  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

But  I'm  goin'  to  fix  it  so's  when  I'm  buried  and 
folks  come  to  the  Cemetery,  nobody'll  get  by 
my  grave  without  noticin'  my  tombstone.'  And 
then  he  took  sick  with  inflammatory  rheumatism, 
and  if  it  didn't  last  him  three  years  and  et  up 
his  whole  tombstone  fund.  He  use'  to  worry 
about  it  considerable  as  the  rheumatism  kept 
reducing  the  granite  inch  after  inch,  and  he  died, 
thinking  he  wasn't  going  to  have  nothing  but 
markers  to  him.  So  his  old  wife  come  and  told 
Sodality,  crying  to  think  he  wasn't  going  to 
seem  no  real  true  inhabitant  of  Cemetery,  any 
more  than  he  had  of  the  village.  And  we  felt 
so  sorry  for  her  we  took  part  of  the  Thirty 
Dollars  we'd  made  at  the  rummage  sale  and 
bought  him  a  nice  cement  stone,  and  put  the 
verse  on  to  attract  attention  that  he'd  wrote 
himself :  — 

"  '  STOP.       LOOK.       LISTEN. 

HERE    LAYS    ME. 
MY    GRAVE    IS    JUST   AS    BIG 
AS    YOURS    WILL    BE.' 

"Some  was  inclined  to  criticise  Jeb  for  being 
so  ambitious  in  death,  and  stopping  to  think 
how  good  a  showing  he  could  make.  But  I 
donno,  I  always  sort  of  understood  him.  He 
wanted  to  be  somebody.  He'd  used  to  try  to 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  171 

have  a  voice  in  public  affairs,  but  somehow  what 
he  proposed  wasn't  ever  practical  and  never 
could  get  itself  adopted.  His  judgment  wasn't 
much,  and  time  and  again  he'd  voted  against  the 
town's  good,  and  he  see  it  afterward.  He  missed 
being  a  real  citizen  of  his  town,  and  he  knew  it, 
and  he  hankered  to  be  a  citizen  of  his  Cemetery. 
And  wherever  he  is  now,  I  bet  that  healthy  han 
kering  is  strained  and  purified  and  helping  him 
ahead. 

"But  our  buying  that  stone  for  Jeb's  widow's 
husband's  grave  let  us  in  for  perpetual  applica 
tions  for  monuments  ;  and  so  when  we  had  any 
money  we  always  went  right  to  work  and  voted 
it  for  general  Cemetery  improvement,  so  there 
wasn't  ever  any  money  in  the  treasury  for  the 
applications.  Anyway,  we  felt  we'd  ought  to 
encourage  self-made  graves  and  not  pauperize 
our  corpses. 

"So  the  very  next  afternoon  after  we  got  our 
paper  out,  we  met  at  Mis'  Sykes's  ;  and  the  day 
being  mild  and  gold,  almost  all  of  Sodality  turned 
out,  and  Mis'  Sykes  used  both  her  parlours.  It 
was  funny ;  but  such  times  there  fell  on  them 
that  sat  Front  Parlour  a  sort  of  what-you-might- 
call-distinction  over  them  that  sat  Back  Parlour. 
It's  the  same  to  our  parties.  Them  that  are  set 
down  to  the  dining-room  table  always  seem  a 


172  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

little  more  company  than  them  that  are  served 
to  the  little  sewing  tables  around  in  the  open 
rooms,  and  we  all  feel  it,  though  we  all  pretend 
not,  as  well-bred  as  we  know  how.  I  donno 
but  there's  something  to  it,  too.  Mis'  Sykes, 
for  instance,  she  always  gets  put  to  a  dining 
table.  Nobody  would  ever  think  of  setting 
her  down  to  a  small  one,  no  more  than  they  would 
a  Proudfit.  But  me,  I  generally  get  tucked 
down  to  a  sewing  table  and  in  a  rocking-chair, 
if  there  ain't  enough  cane  seats  to  go  around. 
Things  often  divide  themselves  true  to  them 
selves  in  this  life,  after  all. 

"This  was  the  last  regular  meeting  before 
our  Annual.  The  Annual,  at  Insley's  suggestion, 
was  going  to  be  in  the  schoolhouse,  and  it  was 
going  to  be  an  open  evening  meeting,  with  the 
whole  town  invited  in  and  ice-cream  served 
after.  Regular  meetings  Sodality  gives  just  tea  ; 
special  meetings  we  give  hot  chocolate  or  ice- 
lemonade,  or  both  if  the  weather  is  unsettled ; 
for  entertainments  we  have  cut-up  fruit  and 
little  bakery  cakes  ;  but  to  our  Annual  we  mount 
up  to  ice-cream  and  some  of  our  best  cake 
makers'  layer  cake.  And  us  ladies  always  dress 
according :  afternoon  home  dresses  to  regular 
meetings  ;  second  best  to  specials  ;  Sunday  silks 
to  entertainments ;  and  straight  going-out 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  173 

clothes  for  the  Annual.  It  makes  it  real  nice. 
Nobody  need  to  come  dressed  wrong,  and  no 
body  can  go  away  disappointed  at  what  they've 
been  fed. 

"The  meeting  that  day  all  ought  to  have  gone 
smooth  enough,  it  being  so  nice  that  our  paper 
had  sold  well  and  all,  but  I  guess  the  most  of 
us  was  too  tired  out  to  have  tried  to  have  a 
meeting  so  soon.  Anyhow,  we  didn't  seem  to 
come  together  slippery  and  light-running,  like 
we  do  some  days ;  but  instead  I  see  the  minute 
we  begun  to  collect  that  we  was  all  inclined  to 
be  heavy  and,  though  not  cross,  yet  frictionish. 

"For  instance:  Mis'  Holcomb-that-was- 
Mame-Bliss  had  come  in  a  new  red  waist  with 
black  raspberry  buttons.  And  it  was  too  much 
for  Mis'  Fire  Chief  Merriman  that's  been  turn 
ing  her  black  poplin  ever  since  the  Fire  Chief 
died. 

'"Dear  me,  Mis'  Holcomb,'  she  says,  'I  never 
see  anybody  have  more  dressy  clothes.  Did 
you  put  that  on  just  for  us  ?' 

"Mis'  Holcomb  shut  her  lips  tight. 

"'This  is  for  home  wear,'  she  says  short,  when 
she  opened  them. 

"Mean  to  say  you  get  a  cooked  supper  in  that 
rig  ?'  says  Mis'  Merriman.  'Fry  meat  in  it,  do 
you  ?' 


174  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"  'We  don't  eat  as  hearty  as  some,'  says  Mame. 
'We  don't  insist  on  warm  suppers.  We  feel  at 
our  house  we  have  to  keep  our  bills  down.' 

"Mis'  Merriman  straightened  up,  real  brittle. 

"'My  gracious,'  she  says,  'I  guess  I  live  as 
cheap  as  the  best  does.' 

'"I  see  you  buying  shelled  nuts,  just  the 
same,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb,  'when  shellin'  'em 
with  your  fingers  cost  twenty  cents  off.' 

'"I  ain't  never  had  my  store-buyin'  criticised 
before,'  says  Mis'  Merriman,  elbows  back. 

"'Nor,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb,  bitter,  'have  I 
ever  before,  in  my  twenty-six  years  of  married 
life,  ever  been  called  dressy* 

"Then  Mis'  Toplady,  she  sort  of  shouldered 
into  the  minute,  big  and  placid  and  nice-feeling. 

"'Mame,'  she  says,  'set  over  here  where  you 
can  use  the  lead-pencil  on  my  watch  chain,  and 
put  down  that  crochet  pattern  I  wanted,  will 
you  ?' 

"Mame  come  over  by  her  and  took  the  pencil, 
Mis'  Toplady  leaning  over  so's  she  could  use  it ; 
but  before  she  put  the  crochet  pattern  down, 
Mame  made  one,  experimental,  on  the  stiff 
bottom  of  her  work-bag,  and  Libby  Liberty 
thought  she'd  make  a  little  joking. 

"'S-sh-h,'  says  Libby,  'the  authoress  is  takin' 
down  notes.' 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  175 

"Mis'  Holcomb  has  had  two-three  poems 
in  the  Friendship  Daily,  and  she's  real  sensitive 
over  it. 

"'I'd  be  polite  if  I  couldn't  be  pleasant, 
Libby,'  says  Mame,  acid. 

" '  I'm  pleasant  enough  to  pleasant  folks,'  snaps 
Libby,  up  in  arms  in  a  minute.  Nothing  what 
ever  makes  anybody  so  mad  as  to  have  what  was 
meant  playful  took  plain. 

"'  I,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb,  majestic,  'would  pay 
some  attention  to  my  company  manners,  no 
matter  what  I  was  in  the  home.' 

"'That  makes  me  think,'  puts  in  Mis'  Top- 
lady,  hasty,  'speaking  of  company  so,  who's 
heard  anything  about  the  evenin'  company  up  to 
Proudfhs'?' 

"It  was  something  all  our  heads  was  full  of, 
being  half  the  village  had  just  been  invited  in 
to  the  big  evening  affair  that  was  to  end  up  the 
house  party,  and  we'd  all  of  pitched  in  and  talked 
fast  anyhow  to  take  our  minds  off  the  spat. 

'"Elbert's  comin'  home  to  go  to  it  an'  to 
stay  Sunday  an'  as  much  as  he  can  spare,'  says 
Mis'  Sykes.  Elbert  is  her  son  and  all  Silas 
Sykes  ought  to  of  been,  Elbert  is. 

"  'Letty  Ames  is  home  for  the  party,  too,'  says 
Libby  Liberty,  speaking  up  in  defence  of  their 
block,  that  Letty  lives  in.  She's  just  gradu- 


176  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

ated  at  Indian  Mound  and  has  been  visiting  up 
the  state. 

"My  niece  that  had  come  on  for  a  few  days 
would  be  gone  before  the  party  come  off,  so  she 
didn't  seem  worth  mentioning  for  real  news 
value  at  a  time  when  everything  was  centring  in 
an  evening  company  at  Proudfit  House.  No 
doubt  about  it,  Proudfit  House  does  give  distinc 
tion  to  Friendship  Village,  kind  of  like  a  finishing 
school  would,  or  a  circus  wintering  in  us. 

"'I  heard,'  says  Mis'  Jimmy  Sturgis, '  that  the 
hired  help  set  up  all  night  long  cleanin'  the  silver. 
I  shouldn't  think  that  would  of  been  necessary, 
with  any  kind  of  management  behind  'em.' 

"'You  don't  get  much  management  now'- 
days,'  says  Mis'  Hubbelthwait,  sighing.  'Things 
slap  along  awful  haphazard.' 

"'I  know  I  ain't  the  system  to  myself  that  I 
use'  to  have,'  says  Abagail  Arnold.  'Why,  the 
other  day  I  found  my  soda  in  one  butt'ry  an' 
my  bakin'  powder  in  the  other.' 

"'An'  I  heard,'  says  Mame  Holcomb  --  that's 
one  thing  about  Mame,  you  can't  keep  her  mad. 
She'll  flare  up  and  be  a  tongue  of  flame  one 
minute,  and  the  next  she's  actin'  like  a  friendly 
open  fire  on  a  family  hearth.  And  I  always 
trust  that  kind — I  can't  help  it  —  'I  heard,' 
she  said,  'that  for  the  party  that  night  the  ice- 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  177 

cream  is  coming  in  forms,  calla-lilies  an'  dogs 
an'  like  that.' 

"'I  heard,'  says  Mis'  Uppers,  'that  Emerel 
Daniel  was  invited  up  to  help  an'  she  set  up 
nights  and  got  her  a  new  dress  for  helpin'  in, 
and  now  little  Otie's  sick  and  she  likely  can't 
go  near.' 

"Mis'   Toplady   looks   over   her   glasses. 

"'Is  Otie  sick  again  ?'  says  she.  'Well,  if 
Emerel  don't  move  out  of  Black  Hollow,  she'll 
lose  him  just  like  she  done  Abe.  Can't  she  sell  ?' 

"Black  Hollow  is  the  town's  pet  breeding 
place  for  typhoid,  that  the  ladies  has  been  at  the 
council  to  clean  up  for  a  year  now.  And  no 
body  will  buy  there,  so  Emerel's  had  to  live  in 
her  house  to  save  rent. 

"'She's  made  her  a  nice  dress  an'  she  was  so 
excited  and  pleased,'  says  Mis'  Uppers,  griev 
ing.  '  I  do  hope  it  was  a  dark  shade  so  if  bereave 
ment  follows  - 

"'I  suppose  you'll  have  a  new  cloth,  Mis' 
Sykes,'  says  Mis'  Hubbelthwait,  'you're  so 
up-to-date.'  It's  always  one  trouble  with  Mis' 
Hubbelthwait :  she  will  natter  the  flatterable. 
But  that  time  it  didn't  work.  Mis'  Sykes  was 
up  on  a  chair  fixing  a  window-shade  that  had  flew 
up,  and  I  guess  she  must  have  pinched  her 
finger,  she  was  so  crispy. 


178  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

"'I  thought  I  had  things  that  was  full  stylish 
enough  to  wear,'  she  says  stiff. 

'"I  didn't  mean  harm,'  says  Mis'  Hubbel- 
thwait,  humble. 

"Just  then  we  all  got  up  to  see  out  the  window, 
for  the  Proudfit  automobile  drew  up  to  Mis' 
Sykes's  gate.  They  was  several  folks  in  it,  like 
they  had  been  most  of  the  time  during  the  house 
party,  with  everybody  flying  hither  and  yon ; 
and  they  was  letting  Mis'  Emmons  out.  It 
was  just  exactly  like  her  to  remember  to  come 
right  out  of  the  midst  of  a  house  party  to  a 
meeting  of  Sodality.  That  woman  was  pure 
gold.  When  they  was  a  lot  of  things  to  choose 
about,  she  always  seemed  to  let  the  pleasant  and 
the  light  and  the  easy-to-do  slip  right  through  her 
fingers,  that  would  close  up  by  and  by  on  the 
big  real  thing  that  most  folks  would  pretend 
to  try  to  catch  after  it  had  slipped  through,  and 
yet  would  be  awful  glad  to  see  disappearing. 

"We  didn't  talk  clothes  any  more  after  Mis' 
Emmons  come  in.  Some  way  her  clothes  was  so 
professional  seeming,  in  colour  and  cut,  that 
beside  of  her  the  rest  of  us  never  said  much  about 
ours ;  though  I  will  say  Mis'  Emmons  always 
wore  her  clothes  like  she  was  no  more  thinking 
about  them  than  she  would  be  thinking  about 
morning  housework  togs. 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  179 

"'Well-said,  how's  the  little  boy,  Mis'  Em- 
mons  ?'  asks  Mis'  Toplady,  hearty.  'I  de 
clare  I  couldn't  go  to  sleep  a  night  or  two  ago 
for  thinkin'  about  the  little  soul.  Heard  any 
sound  out  of  his  folks  ?' 

"'I'm  going  to  tell  you  about  that  pretty 
soon,'  Mis'  Emmons  answered  —  and  it  made  my 
heart  beat  a  little  with  wondering  if  she'd  got 
her  plans  thought  out,  not  only  four-square,  but 
tower-high.  'He  is  well  —  he  wanted  to  come 
to  the  meeting.  "I  like  ladies,"  he  said,  "when 
they  look  at  me  like  loving,  but  not  when 
they  touch  me  much."  Mr.  Insley  has  him  out 
walking.' 

'"Little  soul,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  again. 

"Out  in  the  back  parlour,  some  of  us  had  been 
talking  about  Christopher  already. 

"'I  heard,'  Mis'  Merriman  says,  that  wasn't 
to  the  church  the  night  Christopher  come,  'I 
heard  that  he  didn't  have  much  of  any  clothes 
on.  An'  that  nobody  could  understand  what  he 
said.  An'  that  nobody  could  get  him  to  speak  a 
word.' 

"'Pshaw,'  Mis'  Sturgis  puts  in,  'he  was  a 
nice-dressed  little  boy,  though  wet ;  an'  quite 
conversational.' 

'"Well,  I  think  it's  a  great  problem,'  says  Mis' 
Uppers.  'He's  too  young  for  the  poorhouse  and 


i8o  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

too  old  for  the  babies'  home.      Seems  like  they 
wasn't  anything  to  do  with  him.' 

"There  come  a  lull  when  Mis'  Postmaster 
Sykes,  in  a  ruffled  lawn  that  had  shrunk  too 
short  for  anything  but  house  wear,  stood  up 
by  the  piano  and  called  the  meeting  to  order. 
And  when  we'd  got  on  down  to  new  business, 
the  purpose  of  the  meeting  and  a  hint  of  the 
pleasure  was  stated  formal  by  Mis'  Sykes  her 
self.  'One  thing  why  I  like  to  preside  at 
Sodality,'  I  heard  her  tell  once,  'is,  you  do  get 
your  say  whenever  you  want  it,  and  nobody 
can  interrupt  you  when  you're  in  the  chair.' 

:' Ladies,'  she  says,  'we've  seen  from  the 
treasurer's  report  we've  got  some  Sixty-odd 
Dollars  on  hand.  The  question  is,  where  shall 
we  vote  it  to.  Let  the  discussion  be  free.' 

"Mis'  Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss  spoke 
first,  with  a  kind  of  a  bright  manner  of  having 
thought  it  all  out  over  her  dish  pan  and  her 
bread  pan.  There  is  this  about  belonging  to 
Sodality:  We  just  live  Sodality  every  day,  around 
our  work.  We  don't  forget  it  except  to  meet 
ings,  same  as  some. 

'"Well,  I  just  tell  you  what,'  Mame  says, 
'I  think  now  is  our  time  to  get  a  big  monument 
for  the  middle  of  Cemetery  that'll  do  some 
credit  to  the  Dead.  All  our  little  local  head- 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  181 

stones  is  quite  tasty  and  shows  our  interest 
in  them  that's  gone  before ;  but  not  one  of 
them  is  real  up-to-date.  Let's  buy  a  nice  mon 
ument  that'll  show  from  the  railroad 'track.' 

"I  spoke  up  short  off  from  the  back  parlour, 
where  I  set  'scallopin'  a  bedspread  about  as 
big  as  the  carpet. 

'"Who  to?'  I  says. 

'"Oh,  I  donno's  it  makes  much  differ'nce,' 
Mis'  Holcomb  says,  warming  to  her  theme, 
'so's  it  was  some  leadin'  citizen.  We  might 
take  a  town  vote  on  it.' 

"Mis'  Sturgis  set  up  straight,  eyebrows  up. 
I  donno  how  it  is,  but  Mis'  Sturgis's  pompadour 
always  seems  so  much  higher  as  soon  as  she 
gets  interested. 

'"Why,  my  gracious,'  she  says,  'we  might 
earn  quite  a  lot  o'  money  that  way.  We  might 
have  a  regular  votin'  contest  on  who  that's 
dead  should  get  the  monument  —  so  much  a 
vote  an'  the  names  of  the  successful  ones  run 
every  night  in  the  Daily  — ' 

'"Well-a,  why  do  it  for  anybody  dead?'  says 
Libby  Liberty.  '  Why  not  get  the  monument 
here  and  have  it  on  view  an'  then  have  folks 
kind  of  bid  on  it  for  their  own,  real  votin'  style. 
In  the  cities  now  everybody  picks  out  their 
own  monuments  ahead  of  time.  That  would 


182  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

be  doing  for  the  Living,  the  way  Mr.  Insley 
said.' 

"'Oh,  there'd  be  hard  feelin'  that  way,' 
spoke  up  Mis'  Uppers,  decided.  'Whoever  got 
it,  an'  got  buried  under  it,  never  could  feel  it 
was  his  own  stone.  Everybody  that  had 
bought  votes  for  themselves  could  come  out 
walking  in  the  Cemetery  Sunday  afternoons 
and  could  point  out  the  monument  and  tell 
how  much  of  a  money  interest  they  had  in  it. 
Oh,  no,  I  don't  think  that'd  do  at  all.' 

'"Well,  stick  to  havin'  it  for  the  Dead,  then/ 
Libby  gives  in.  'We've  got  to  remember  our 
constitution.' 

"Mis'  Amanda  Toplady  was  always  going 
down  after  something  in  the  bottom  of  her 
pocket,  set  low  in  her  full  black  skirt.  She  done 
this  now,  for  a  spool  or  a  lozenger.  And  she 
says,  meantime:  'Seems  like  that'd  be  awful 
irreverent,  connectin'  up  the  Dead  with  votes 
that  way.' 

"'My  notion,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  with  her  way 
of  throwin'  up  one  corner  of  her  head,  'it  ain't 
one-tenth  part  as  irreverent  as  forgettin'  all 
about  'em.' 

"'Of  course  it  ain't,'  agreed  Mis'  Hubbel- 
thwait.  'Real,  true  irreverence  is  made  up  of 
buryin'  folks  and  leavin'  'em  go  their  way. 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  183 

Why,  I  bet  you  there  ain't  any  one  of  'em 
that  wouldn't  be  cheered  up  by  bein'  voted 
for.' 

"I  couldn't  help  piping  up  again  from  the 
back  parlour.  'What  about  them  that  don't 
get  no  votes  ?'  I  asks.  'What  about  them  that 
is  beat  in  death  like  they  may  of  been  in  life  ? 
What's  there  to  cheer  them  up  ?  If  I  was  them,' 
says  I,  'I'd  ha'nt  the  whole  Sodality.' 

'"No  need  to  be  so  sacrilegious  in  speakin' 
of  the  Dead  as  I  know  of,  Calliope,'  says  Mis' 
Sykes  that  was  in  the  chair  and  could  rebuke 
at  will. 

"That  made  me  kind  o'  mad,  and  I  answered 
back,  chair  or  no  chair  :  'A  thing  is  sacrilegious,' 
says  I,  'according  to  which  side  of  the  fence 
you're  on.  But  the  fence  it  don't  change  none.' 

"Mis'  Toplady  looked  over  her  glasses  and 
out  the  window  and  like  she  see  far  away. 

"'Land,  land,'  she  says,  'I'd  like  to  take  that 
Sixty  Dollars  and  hire  some  place  to  invite  the 
young  folks  into  evenings,  that  don't  have  no 
place  to  go  on  earth  for  fun.  Friendship  Vil 
lage,'  says  she,  'is  about  as  lively  as  Cemetery 
is  for  the  young  folks.' 

'"Well,  but,  Mis'  Toplady,'  says  Mis'  Sykes, 
reprovin',  'the  young  folks  is  alive  and  able 
to  see  to  themselves.  They  don't  come  in 


1 84  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

Sodality's  scope.  Everything  we  do  has  got 
to  be  connect'  with  Cemetery.' 

"'I  can't  help  it,'  Mis'  Toplady  answers,  'if 
it  is.  I'd  like  to  invite  'em  in  for  some  good 
safe  evenin's  somewheres  instead  of  leaving  'em 
trapse  the  streets.  And  if  I  had  to  have  Ceme 
tery  in  it  somehow,  I  donno  but  I'd  make  it  a 
lawn  party  and  give  it  in  Cemetery  and  have 
done  with  it.' 

"We  all  laughed,  but  I  knew  that  under 
neath,  Mis'  Toplady  was  kind  of  half-and-half 
in  earnest. 

"'The  young  folks,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  myster 
ious,  'is  going  to  be  took  care  of  by  the  proper 
means,  very,  very  soon.' 

"'I  donno,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb,  obstinate. 
*I  think  the  monument  is  a  real  nice  idea. 
Grandfather  Holcomb,  now,  him  that  helped 
draft  the  town,  or  whatever  it  is  they  do,  I 
bet  he'd  be  real  pleased  to  be  voted  for.' 

"But  Mis'  Fire  Chief  Merriman,  seems  she 
couldn't  forget  the  little  way  Mame  had  spoke 
to  her  before,  and  she  leaned  forward  and  cut 
her  way  into  the  talking. 

"'Why,  Mis'  Holcomb,'  she  says,  'of  course 
your  Grandfather  Holcomb  can  be  voted  on  if 
he  wants  to  and  if  he  thinks  he  could  get  it. 
But  dead  though  he  is,  what  he  done  can't 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  185 

hold  a  candle  to  what  Grandfather  Merriman 
done.  That  man  just  about  run  this  town  for 
years  on  end.' 

'"I  heard  he  did,'  said  Mame,  short.  'Those 
was  the  days  before  things  was  called  by  their 
true  names  in  politics  and  in  graft  and  like  that.' 

"'I'm  sure,'  says  Mis'  Merriman,  her  voice 
slipping,  'Grandfather  Merriman  was  an  angel 
in  heaven  to  his  family.  And  he  started  the 
very  Cemetery  by  bein'  buried  in  it  first  himself, 
and  he  took  a  front  lot  — ' 

'"Ladies,  ladies,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  stern, 
'we  ain't  votin'  yet.  Has  anybody  got  anything 
else  to  offer  ?  Let  the  discussion  be  free.' 

"'What  do  we  get  a  monument  for,  anyway?' 
says  Mis'  Toplady,  hemming  peaceful.  'Why 
don't  we  stick  the  money  onto  the  new  iron 
fence  for  Cemetery,  same  as  we've  been  trying 
to  do  for  years  ?' 

'"That's  what  I  was  thinking,'  says  Abagail 
Arnold,  smiling.  'Whenever  I  make  one  of  my 
layer  cakes  for  Sodality  Annual,  and  frost  it 
white  and  make  mounds  of  frosted  nuts  on  top, 
I  always  wish  Cemetery  had  a  fence  around 
so's  I  could  make  a  frosting  one  on  the  edge  of 
the  cake,  appropriate.' 

'"Why,  but  my  land,  Abagail,'  says  Mis' 
Holcomb,  'can't  you  see  the  differ'nce  between 


1 86  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

workin'  for  a  dead  iron  fence  and  working  for 
the  real,  right  down  Dead  that  once  was  the 
living  ?  Where's  your  humanity,  I'd  like  to 
know,  and  your  loyalty  to  Friendship  Village 
inhabitants  that  was,  that  you  set  the  old  iron 
fence  over  against  'em.  What's  a  fence  beside 
folks?' 

"All  this  time  Mis'  Emmons,  there  in  the 
front  parlour,  had  just  sat  still,  stitching  away 
on  some  little  garment  or  other,  but  now  she 
looked  up  quick,  as  if  she  was  going  to  speak. 
She  even  begun  to  speak  with  a  'Madame 
President'  that  covered  up  several  excited 
beginnings.  But  as  she  done  so,  I  looked 
through  the  folding  doors  and  see  her  catch 
sight  of  somebody  out  in  the  street.  And  I 
looked  out  the  bay-window  in  the  back  parlour 
and  I  see  who  it  was  :  it  was  a  man,  carefully 
guiding  a  little  bit  of  a  man  who  was  walking 
on  the  flat  board  top  of  the  Sykes's  fence.  So, 
instead  of  speaking  formal,  all  Mis'  Emmons 
done  was  to  make  a  little  motion  towards  the 
window,  so  that  her  contribution  to  the  debating 
was  nothing  but  — 

"' Madame  President  —  look.' 

"We  all  looked,  them  in  the  out-of-range 
corners  of  the  room  getting  up  and  holding 
their  work  in  their  aprons,  and  peering  past ; 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  187 

and  us  in  the  back  parlour  tried  for  glimpses  out 
the  side  bay-window,  past  Mis'  Sykes's  big 
sword  fern.  And  so  the  most  of  us  see  Insley 
walking  with  Christopher,  who  was  footing 
it  very  delicate  and  grave,  picking  out  his  places 
to  step  as  if  a  real  lot  depended  on  it. 

"'That's  Chris,'  says  Mis'  Emmons,  simple, 
4  that's  come  to  us.'  And  you'd  of  said  she  hardly 
spoke  the  'us'  real  conscious  of  herself.  She 
looked  round  at  us  all.  '  Let's  have  him  in  for 
a  minute,'  she  says. 

'"The  little  soul  !  Let's  so  do,'  Mis'  Amanda 
Toplady  says,  hearty. 

"It  was  Mis'  Emmons  that  went  to  the  door 
and  called  them,  and  I  guess  Insley,  when  he 
see  her,  must  of  wondered  what  made  her  face 
seem  like  that.  He  went  on  up  town,  and  the 
little  chap  come  trotting  up  the  walk. 

"When  Chris  come  in  Mis'  Sykes's  front 
parlour  among  all  the  women,  there  run  round 
that  little  murmuring  sound  that  a  crowd  of 
women  uses  to  greet  the  coming  in  their  midst 
of  any  child.  And  I  s'pose  it  was  a  little  more 
so  than  ever  for  Chris,  that  they  hadn't  all 
seen  yet  —  'count  of  so  few  being  out  the  night 
he  come  and  'count  of  his  having  been  up  to 
Proudfit  House  'most  ever  since.  Us  in  the 
back  parlour  went  crowding  in  the  front,  and  some 


1 88  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

come  down  to  the  hall  door  to  be  the  nearer. 
Mis'  Amanda  Toplady,  hunting  in  her  deep 
pocket,  this  time  for  a  lozenger,  says  fervent 
above  the  rest :  — 

"'The  little  soul.' 

"And  he  did  resemble  one,  standing  there  so 
shy  and  manly  in  his  new  little  brown  clothes. 

"Mis'  Emmons's  eyes  was  bright,  and  I 
thought  I  see  a  kind  of  challenge  in  her  way  of 
drawing  the  child  towards  her. 

"'Chris,'  she  says,  'tell  them  what  you  had 
in  your  paper  bag  when  you  came  to  the  church 
the  other  night.' 

"Chris  remembered:  Sugar  rolls  and  cream- 
puffs  and  fruit-cake,  he  recites  it  grand.  'My 
supper,'  he  adds,  no  less  grand.  'But  that  was 
'cause  I  didn't  have  my  dinner  nor  my  break 
fast,'  he  explains,  so's  we  wouldn't  think  he'd 
had  too  much  at  once. 

:'What   was   the    matter   with    your   foot?' 
Mis'  Emmons  goes  on. 

"Christopher  had  a  little  smile  that  just 
about  won  you  —  a  sort  of  abashed  little  smile, 
that  begun  over  by  one  side  of  his  mouth,  and 
when  he  was  going  to  smile  that  way  he  always 
started  in  by  turning  away  his  head.  He  done 
this  now;  but  we  could  all  hear  what  he  said. 
It  was  :  — 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  189 

"'My  biggest  toe  went  right  through  a  hole, 
an'  it  choked  me  awful.' 

"About  a  child's  foot  hurting,  or  a  little  sore 
heel,  there  is  something  that  makes  mothers 
out  of  everybody,  for  a  minute  or  two.  The 
women  all  twittered  into  a  little  ripple  of  under 
standing.  Probably  to  every  woman  there 
come  the  picture  of  the  little  cold,  wet  foot 
and  the  choked  toe.  I  know  I  could  see  it, 
and  I  can  see  it  yet. 

"'Lambin','  says  Mis'  Toplady,  in  more  than 
two  syllables,  'come  here  for  a  peppermint.' 

"Chris  went  right  over  to  her.  'I  been 
thirsty  for  a  drink  of  water  since  all  day,'  he 
says  confidential.  'Have  you  got  one  ?' 

"Mis'  Toplady  went  with  the  child,  and  then 
Mis'  Emmons  took  something  from  her  bag  and 
held  it  up.  It  was  Christopher's  father's  letter 
that  he'd  brought  with  him  that  night. 

"She  read  the  letter  out  loud,  in  everybody's 
perfectly  breathless  silence  that  was  broken 
only  by  Christopher  laughing  out  in  the  kitchen. 
'My  friends,'  Mis'  Emmons  says  when  she'd 
got  through,  'doesn't  it  seem  to  you  as  if  our 
work  had  come  to  us  ?  And  that  if  it  isn't 
Chris  himself,  at  least  it  ought  to  be  people,  live 
people  —  and  not  an  iron  fence  or  even  a  monu 
ment  that  will  show  from  the  railroad  track  ?' 


190  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"And  with  that,  standing  in  the  doorway 
with  my  arms  full  of  bedspread,  I  piped  right 
up,  just  like  I'd  been  longing  to  pipe  up  ever 
since  that  night  at  Mis'  Emmons's  when  I'd 
talked  with  Insley  :  — 

"'Yes,  sir,'  I  says  emphatic,  'it  does.  With 
out  meaning  to  be  sacrilegious  in  the  least,' 
I  says  toward  Mis'  Sykes,  'I  believe  that  the 
Dead  is  a  lot  better  prepared  to  take  care  of 
themselves  than  a  good  many  of  the  Living 


is.' 


"There  was  a  kind  of  a  little  pause  at  this, 
all  but  Mis'  Sykes.  Mis'  Sykes  don't  pause 
easy.  She  spoke  right  back,  sort  of  elevating 
one  temple :  — 

'"The  object  of  this  meeting  as  the  chair 
understands  it,'  says  she,  'is  to  discuss  money 
spending,  not  idees.' 

"But  I  didn't  pay  no  more  attention  than  as 
if  I'd  been  a  speaker  in  public  life.  And  Mis' 
Toplady  and  Christopher,  coming  back  to  the 
room  just  then,  I  spoke  to  him  and  took  a-hold 
of  his  little  shoulder. 

"'Chris,'  I  says,  'tell  'em  what  you're  going 
to  be  when  you  grow  up.' 

"The  little  boy  stood  up  with  his  back  against 
the  door-casing,  and  he  spoke  back  between 
peppermints  :  — 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  191 

"'I'm  going  to  drive  the  loads  of  hay,'  he 
declares  himself. 

'"A  little  bit  ago,'  I  says  to  'em,  'he  was 
going  to  be  a  cream-puff  man,  and  keep  a  church 
and  manufacture  black  velvet  for  people's 
coffins.  Think  of  all  them  futures  —  not  to 
spend  time  on  other  possibilities.  Don't  it 
seem  like  we'd  ought  to  keep  him  around  here 
somewheres  and  help  him  decide  ?  Don't  it 
seem  like  what  he's  going  to  be  is  resting  with 
us  ?' 

"But  now  Mis'  Sykes  spoke  out  in  her  most 
presidential  tone. 

"'It  would  be  perfectly  impossible,'  she  says, 
'for  Sodality  to  spend  its  money  on  the  child 
or  on  anybody  else  that's  living.  Our  consti 
tution  says  we  shall  work  for  Cemetery.' 

" 'Well,' says  I,  rebellish,  'then  let's  rip  up 
our  old  constitution  and  buy  ourselves  a  new 
pattern.' 

"Mis'  Sykes  was  getting  to  verge  on  mad. 

"'But  Sodality  ain't  an  orphan  asylum, 
Calliope,'  says  she,  'nor  none  of  us  is  that.' 

'"Ain't  we  —  ain't  we,  Mis'  Sykes  ?'  I  says. 
'Sometimes  I  donno  what  we're  for  if  we  ain't 
that.' 

"And  then  I  just  clear  forgot  myself,  in  one 
of  them  times  that  don't  let  you  get  to  sleep 


192  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

that  night  for  thinking  about,  and  that  when 
you  wake  up  is  right  there  by  the  bed  waiting 
for  you,  and  that  makes  you  feel  sore  when 
you  think  of  afterwards  —  sore,  but  glad,  too. 

'"That's  it,'  I  says,  'that's  it.  I've  been 
thinking  about  that  a  good  deal  lately.  I 
s'pose  it's  because  I  ain't  any  children  of  my 
own  to  be  so  busy  for  that  I  can't  think  about 
their  real  good.  Seems  to  me  there  ain't 
a  child  living  no  matter  how  saucy  or  soiled 
or  similar,  but  could  look  us  each  one  in  the  face 
and  say,  "What  you  doing  for  me  and  the  rest 
of  us  ?"  And  what  could  we  say  to  them  ?  We 
could  say:  "I'm  buying  some  of  you  ginghams 
that  won't  shrink  nor  fade.  Some  of  you  I'm 
cooking  food  for,  and  some  of  you  I'm  letting 
go  without  it.  And  some  of  you  I'm  buying 
school  books  and  playthings  and  some  of  you 
I'm  leaving  without  'em.  I'm  making  up  some 
of  your  beds  and  teaching  you  your  manners 
and  I'm  loving  you  --  some  of  you.  And  the 
rest  of  you  I'm  leaving  walk  in  town  after 
dark  with  a  hole  in  your  stocking."  Where's 
the  line  —  where  'j  the  line  ?  How  do  we  know 
which  is  the  ones  to  do  for  ?  I  tell  you  I'm 
the  orphan  asylum  to  the  whole  lot  of  'em. 
And  so  are  you.  And  I  move  the  Cemetery 
Improvement  Sodality  do  something  for  this 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  193 

little  boy.  We'd  adopt  him  if  he  was  dead  — 
an'  keep  his  grave  as  nice  and  neat  as  wax. 
Let's  us  adopt  him  instead  of  his  grave  !' 

"My  bedspread  had  slipped  down  onto  the 
floor,  but  I  never  knew  when  nor  did  I  see  it  go. 
All  I  see  was  that  some  of  them  agreed  with 
me  —  Mis'  Emmons  and  Mis'  Toplady  and  Mis' 
Hubbelthwait  and  Libby  and  even  Mame  that 
had  proposed  the  monument.  But  some  of 
the  others  was  waiting  as  usual  to  see  how  Mis' 
Sykes  was  going  to  believe,  and  Mis'  Sykes  she 
was  just  standing  there  by  the  piano,  her  cheeks 
getting  pinker  and  pinker  up  high  on  her  face. 

"'Calliope,'  she  said,  making  a  gesture. 
4  Ladies  !  this  is  every  bit  of  it  out  of  order. 
This  ain't  the  subject  that  we  come  together 
to  discuss.' 

"'It  kind  of  seems  to  me,'  says  I,  'that  it's 
a  subject  we  was  born  to  discuss.' 

"Mis'  Toplady  sort  of  rolled  over  in  her  chair 
and  looked  across  her  glasses  to  Mis'  Sykes. 

"'Madame  President,'  says  she,  'as  I  under 
stand  it  this  fits  in  all  right.  What  we're 
proposing  is  to  spend  Sodality's  money  on  this 
little  boy  just  the  same  as  though  he  was  dead. 
I  move  we  do  so.' 

"Two-three  of  'em  seconded  it,  but  scairt  and 
scattering. 


194  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"'Mis'  Toplady,'  says  Mis'  Sykes.  'Ladies! 
This  is  a  good  deal  too  headlong.  A  com- 
mittee'd  ought — ' 

'"Question  —  question,'  demands  Mis'  Em- 
mons,  serene,  and  she  met  my  eye  and  smiled 
some,  in  that  little  w^-understand  look  that  can 
pierce  through  a  roomful  of  people  like  the  wind. 

"'Mis'  Emmons,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  wildish. 
'Ladies  !  Sodality  has  been  organized  over 
twenty  years,  doing  the  same  thing.  You 
can't  change  so  offhand  -  You  can't  help 
admiring  Mis'  Sykes,  for  she  simply  don't  know 
when  she's  beat.  But  this  time  she  had  a  point 
with  her,  too.  'If  we  want  to  vote  to  amend 
the  constitution,'  she  said,  'you've  got  to  lay 
down  your  wishes  on  the  table  for  one  week.' 

"'I  daresay  you  have,'  says  Mis'  Emmons, 
looking  grave.  'Well,  I  move  that  we  amend 
the  constitution  of  this  society,  and  I  move 
that  we  do  it  next  week  at  the  open  annual 
meeting  of  the  Sodality.' 

"'Second  the  motion,'  says  I,  with  my  feet 
on  my  white  bedspread. 

"And  somehow  the  phrase  caught  Chris 
topher's  ear,  like  a  tune  might  to  march  by. 

"'Second  a  motion  —  second  a  motion!'  he 
chants  to  himself,  standing  by  Mis'  Toplady's 
knee. 


VIII 

"I  HAD  promised  Insley  to  run  in  the  Cadozas' 
after  the  meeting,  and  see  the  little  boy;  and 
Mis'  Emmons  having  to  go  home  before  she 
started  back  to  the  Proudfits',  Christopher 
walked  along  with  me.  When  we  got  out  to 
the  end  of  Daphne  Street,  Insley  overtook  us 
on  his  way  out  to  the  Cadozas',  too. 

"His  shoes  were  some  muddy,  and  I  guessed 
that  he  had  been  where  of  late  he'd  spent  as 
much  time  as  he  could  spare,  both  when  he 
was  in  the  village  and  when  he  was  over  to 
Indian  Mound.  Without  digging  down  into 
his  eyes,  the  same  as  some  do  to  folks  that's 
in  trouble,  I  had  sensed  that  there  had  come 
down  on  him  everybody's  hour  of  cutting  some 
thing  out  of  life,  which  is  as  elemental  a  thing 
to  do  as  dying  is,  and  I  donno  but  it's  the  same 
kind  as  dying  is  besides.  And  he  had  been  tak 
ing  his  hour  in  the  elemental  way,  wanting  to 
be  alone  and  to  kind  of  get  near  to  the  earth. 
I  mean  tramping  the  hills,  ploughing  along  the 
narrow  paths  close  to  the  barb'  wire  fences, 
plunging  into  the  little  groves.  The  little 

195 


196  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

groves  have  such  an'  I-know  look  of  understand 
ing  all  about  any  difficulty  till  you  walk  inside 
of  them,  when  all  to  once  they  stop  seeming  to 
know  about  your  special  trouble  and  begin 
another  kind  of  slow  soothing,  same  as  summing 
things  up  will  soothe  you,  now  and  then. 

"Chris  chattered  to  him,  lovable. 

"'I  had  some  peppermenges,'  he  says,  'and 
I  like  hot  ice-cream,  too.  Don't  you  ?  Can 
you  make  that  ?'  he  inquires,  slipping  his  hand 
in  Insley's. 

"Of  course  this  made  a  pang  —  when  you're 
hurt,  'most  everything  makes  a  pang.  And 
this  must  of  brought  back  that  one  evening 
with  Robin  that  he  would  have  to  remember,  and 
all  the  little  stupid  jokes  they'd  had  that  night 
must  of  rose  up  and  hit  at  him,  with  the  awful 
power  of  the  little  things  that  don't  matter  one 
bit.  and  yet  that  matter  everything. 

"'What  can  you  make,  Chris?'  Insley  says 
to  him.  'Can  you  make  candy?  And  pull 
it--  like  this  ?' 

"'Once  a  lady  stirred  me  some  an'  cut  it 
up  in  squares,'  Chris  explained,  'but  I  never  did 
make  any.  My  mama  couldn't  make  candy, 
I  guess,  but  she  could  make  all  other  things  — 
pancakes  an'  mittens  an'  nice  stove  fires  my 
mama  could  make.  The  bag  we  got  the  salt 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  197 

in  —  she  made  me  two  handkerchiefs  out  of 
that  bag,'  he  ended  proudly. 

'"Did  she  —  did  she?'  Insley  tempted  him 
on. 

"'Yes,'  Chris  went  on,  hopping  beside  him, 
'but  now  I've  got  to  hurry  an'  be  a  man,  'cause 
litty  boys  ain't  very  good  things.  Can  you 
make  po'try  ?'  he  wound  up. 

'"Why,  Chris  --  can  you  ?'  Insley  asked. 

'"Well,  wrhen  I  was  comin'  along  with  my 
daddy  that  night  I  made  one,'  the  child  says. 
And  when  Insley  questions  him  a  little  he  got 
this  much  more  out  of  him.  'It  started,  "Look 
at  the  trees  so  green  an'  fair,"'  he  says,  'but 
I  forget  the  rest.' 

'"Do  you  want  to  be  a  poet  when  you  grow 
up  ?'  Insley  ask'  him. 

'"Yes,  I  do,'  the  child  says  ready.  'I  think 
I'll  be  that  first  an'  then  I'll  be  the  President, 
too.  But  what  I'd  rather  be  is  the  sprinkler- 
cart  man,  wouldn't  you  ?' 

"'Conceivably,'  Insley  says,  and  by  the  look 
on  his  face  I  bet  his  hand  tightened  up  on  the 
child's  hand. 

"'At  Sodality,'  I  says,  'he  just  told  them  he 
was  going  to  drive  loads  of  hay.  He's  made 
several  selections.' 

"He  looked  at  me  over  the  child's  head,  and 


198  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

I  guess  we  was  both  thinking  the  same  thing : 
Trust  nature  to  work  this  out  alone?  'Con 
ceivably,'  again.  But  all  of  a  sudden  I  know 
we  both  burned  to  help  to  do  it.  And  as 
Insley  talked  to  the  child,  I  think  some  touch 
of  his  enterprise  come  back  and  breathed  on 
him.  In  them  few  last  days  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  his  work  hadn't  stopped  soaring  to  the  mean 
ing  of  spirit  and  sunk  down  again  to  be  just 
body  drudgery.  He  couldn't  ever  help  having 
his  old  possessing  love  of  men,  and  his  man's 
strong  resolution  to  keep  a-going,  but  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  the  wings  of  the  thing  he  meant  to 
do  had  got  folded  up.  And  Christopher,  here, 
was  sort  of  releasing  them  out  again. 

"'How's  the  little  Cadoza  boy?'  I  ask'  him 
pretty  soon. 

"'He's  getting  on,'  he  says.  'Dr.  Barrows 
was  down  yesterday  —  he  wants  him  for  a 
fortnight  or  so  at  the  hospital  in  town,  where 
he  can  have  good  care  and  food.  His  mother 
doesn't  want  him  to  go.  I  hoped  you'd  talk 
with  her.' 

"Before  we  got  to  the  Cadoza  house  Insley 
looked  over  to  me,  enigmatish.  'Want  to  see 
something?'  he  says,  and  he  handed  me  a 
letter.  I  read  it,  and  some  of  it  I  knew  what  it 
meant  and  some  of  it  I  didn't.  It  was  from 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  199 

Alex  Proudfit,  asking  him  up  to  Proudfit  House 
to  the  house  party. 

"...  Ain't  it  astonishing  how  awful  fes 
tive  the  word  'house  party'  sounds.  'Party' 
sounds  festive,  though  not  much  more  so  than 
'company'  or  'gathering'  that  we  use  more 
common.  'Ball,'  of  course,  is  real  glittering, 
and  paints  the  inside  of  your  head  into  pic 
tures,  instantaneous.  But  a  house  party  — 
maybe  it's  because  I  never  was  to  one ;  maybe 
it's  because  I  never  heard  of  one  till  late  in 
life ;  maybe  it's  because  nobody  ever  had  one 
before  in  Friendship  Village  —  but  that  word 
give  me  all  the  sensation  that  'her  golden 
coach'  and  'his  silver  armour'  and  'good  fairy' 
used  to  have  for  me  when  I  was  a  little  girl. 
'House  party  !'  Anything  shiny  might  happen 
to  one  of  them.  It's  like  you'd  took  something 
vanishing  like  a  party,  and  just  seized  onto  it 
and  made  it  stay  longer  than  Time  and  the 
World  ever  intended.  It's  like  making  a  busi 
ness  of  the  short-lived. 

"Well,  some  of  Alex's  letter  went  about  like 
this  :- 

'"Join  us  for  the  whole  time,  do,'  it  says, 
and  it  went  on  about  there  being  rather  an 
interesting  group,  —  'a  jolly  individualist,'  I 
recollect  he  says,  'for  your  special  benefit. 


200  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

He'll  convert  you  where  I  couldn't,  because 
he's  kept  his  love  for  men  and  I  haven't.  And 
of  course  I've  some  women  --  pretty,  bless 
them,  and  thank  the  Lord  not  one  of  them 
troubling  whether  she  loves  mankind  or  not, 
so  long  as  men  love  her.  And  there  you 
have  Nature  uncovered  at  her  task  !  I  shall 
expect  you  for  every  moment  that  you  can 
spare.  .  .  .'  I  remember  the  wording  because 
it  struck  me  it  was  all  so  like  Alex  that  I 
could  pretty  near  talk  to  it  and  have  it  answer 
back. 

"'Tell  me,'  Insley  says,  when  I  handed  the 
letter  back  to  him,  'you  know --him.  Alex 
Proudfit.  Does  he  put  all  that  on  ?  Is  it 
his  mask  ?  Does  he  feel  differently  and  do 
differently  when  folks  don't  know  ?' 

"'Well,'  I  says,  slow,  'I  donno.  He  gives  the 
Cadozas  their  rent,  but  when  Mis'  Cadoza  went 
to  thank  him,  once,  he  sent  down  word  for  her 
to  go  and  see  his  agent.' 

"He  nodded,  and  I'd  never  heard  him  speak 
bitter  before.  'That's  it,'  he  says,  'that's  it. 
That's  the  way  we  bungle  things.  .  .  .' 

"We'd  got  almost  to  the  Cadozas'  when  we 
heard  an  automobile  coming  behind  us,  and  as 
we  stood  aside  to  let  it  go  by,  Robin's  face 
flashed  past  us  at  the  window.  Mis'  Emmons 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  201 

was  with  her,  that  Robin  had  come  down  after. 
Right  off  the  car  stopped  and  Robin  jumped 
out  and  come  hurrying  back  towards  us.  I'll 
never  forget  the  minute.  We  met  right  in 
front  of  the  old  tumble-down  Cadoza  house 
with  the  lilacs  so  high  in  the  front  yard  that 
the  place  looked  pretty  near  nice,  like  the  rest 
of  the  world.  It  was  a  splendid  afternoon,  one 
that  had  got  it's  gold  persuaded  to  burst  through 
a  gray  morning,  like  colour  from  a  bunch  of  sil 
ver  buds  ;  and  now  the  air  was  all  full  of  lovely 
things,  light  and  little  wind  and  late  sun  and 
I  donno  but  things  we  didn't  know  about. 
And  everyone  of  them  seemed  in  Robin's  face 
as  she  came  towards  us,  and  more,  too,  that  we 
couldn't  name  or  place. 

"I  think  the  mere  exquisite  girlishness  of 
her  come  home  to  Insley  as  even  her  strength 
and  her  womanliness,  that  night  he  talked  with 
her,  had  not  moved  him.  I  donno  but  in  the 
big  field  of  his  man's  dream,  he  had  pretty  near 
forgot  how  obvious  her  charm  was.  I'm  pretty 
sure  that  in  those  days  when  he  was  tramping 
the  hills  alone,  the  thing  that  he  was  fighting 
with  was  that  he  was  going  to  lose  her  compan 
ioning  in  the  life  they  both  dreamed.  But  now 
her  hurrying  so  and  her  little  faint  agitation 
made  her  appeal  a  new  thing,  fifty  times  as 


202  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

lovely,  fifty  times  as  feminine,  and  sort  of  fill 
ing  in  the  picture  of  herself  with  all  the  differ 
ent  kinds  of  women  she  was  in  one. 

"So  now,  as  he  stood  there  with  her,  looking 
down  in  her  face,  touching  her  friendly  hand, 
I  think  that  was  the  first  real,  overhauling 
minute  when  he  was  just  swept  by  the  under 
standing  that  his  loss  was  so  many  times  what 
he'd  thought  it  was  going  to  be.  For  it  was 
her  that  he  wanted,  it  was  her  that  he  would 
miss  for  herself  and  not  for  any  dear  plans 
of  work-fellowship  alone.  She  understood  his 
dream,  but  there  was  other  things  she  under 
stood  about,  too.  A  man  can  love  a  woman 
for  a  whole  collection  of  little  dear  things  — 
and  he  can  lose  her  and  grieve ;  he  can  love  her 
for  her  big  way  of  looking  at  things,  and  he  can 
lose  her  and  grieve ;  he  can  love  her  because 
she  is  his  work-fellow,  and  he  can  lose  her  and 
grieve.  But  if,  on  top  of  one  of  these,  he  loves 
her  because  she  is  she,  the  woman  that  knows 
about  life  and  is  capable  of  sharing  all  of  life 
with  him  and  of  being  tender  about  it,  why 
then  if  he  loses  her,  his  grieving  is  going  to  be 
something  that  there  ain't  rightly  no  name  for. 
And  I  think  it  was  that  minute  there  in  the  road 
that  it  first  come  to  Insley  that  Robin  was 
Robin,  that  of  all  the  many  women  that  she 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  203 

was,  first  and  most  she  was  the  woman  that 
was  capable  of  sharing  with  him  all  sides  of 
living. 

"'I  wanted  .  .  .'  she  says  to  him,  uncertain. 
1  Oh,  I  wish  very  much  that  you  would  accept 
the  invitation  to  some  of  the  house  party.  I 
wanted  to  tell  you.' 

"'I  can't  do  that,'  he  answers,  short  and 
almost  gruff.  'Really  I  can't  do  that.' 

"But  it  seemed  there  was  even  a  sort  of  nice 
childishness  about  her  that  you  wouldn't  have 
guessed.  I  always  think  it's  a  wonderful  mo 
ment  when  a  woman  knows  a  man  well  enough 
to  show  some  of  her  childishness  to  him.  But 
a  woman  that  shows  right  off,  close  on  the  heels 
of  an  introduction,  how  childish  she  can  be, 
it  always  sort  o'  makes  me  mad  --  like  she'd 
told  her  first  name  without  being  asked  about 
it. 

"'Please,'  Robin  says,  'I'm  asking  it  because 
I  wish  it  very  much.  I  want  those  people  up 
there  to  know  you.  I  want  — ' 

"He  shook  his  head,  looking  at  her,  eyes, 
mouth,  and  fresh  cheeks,  like  he  wished  he  was 
able  to  look  at  her  face  all  at  once. 

"'At  least,  at  least,'  she  says  to  him  rapid, 
then,  'you  must  come  to  the  party  at  the  end. 
You  know  I  want  to  keep  you  for  my  friend 


204  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

- 1  want  to  make  you  our  friend.  That 
night  Aunt  Eleanor  is  going  to  announce  my 
engagement,  and  I  want  my  friends  to  be  there.' 

"That  surprised  me  as  much  as  it  did  him. 
Nobody  in  the  village  knew  about  the  engage 
ment  yet  except  us  two  that  knew  it  from  that 
night  at  Mis'  Emmons's.  I  wondered  what  on 
earth  Insley  was  going  to  say  and  I  remember 
how  I  hoped,  pretty  near  fierce,  that  he  wasn't 
going  to  smile  and  bow  and  wish  her  happiness 
and  do  the  thing  the  world  would  have  wanted 
of  him.  It  may  make  things  run  smoother 
to  do  that  way,  but  smoothness  isn't  the  only 
thing  the  love  of  folks  for  folks  knows  about. 
I  do  like  a  man  that  now  and  then  speaks  out 
with  the  breath  in  his  lungs  and  not  just  with 
the  breath  of  his  nostrils.  And  that's  what 
Insley  done --that's  what  he  done,  only  I'm 
bound  to  say  that  I  do  think  he  spoke  out  be 
fore  he  knew  he  was  going  to. 

'That  would  be  precisely  why  I  couldn't 
come,'  he  said.  'Thank  you,  you  know — • 
but  please  don't  ask  me.' 

"As  for  Robin,  at  this  her  eyes  widened,  and 
beautiful  colour  swept  her  face.  And  she  didn't 
at  once  turn  away  from  him,  but  I  see  how  she 
stood  looking  at  him  with  a  kind  of  a  sharp 
intentness,  less  of  wonder  than  of  stopping  short. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  205 

"Christopher  had  run  to  the  automobile  and 
now  he  come  a-hopping  back. 

" ' Robin  ! '  he  called.  'Aunt  Eleanor  says  you 
haf  to  be  in  a  dress  by  dinner,  and  it's  now.' 

"'Do  come  for  dinner,  Mr.  Insley,'  Mis' 
Emmons  calls,  as  Robin  and  Christopher  went 
to  join  him.  '  We've  got  up  a  tableau  or  two 
for  afterward.  Come  and  help  me  be  a  tab 
leau.' 

"He  smiled  and  shook  his  head  and  answered 
her.  And  that  reminded  me  that  I'd  got  to 
hurry  like  wild,  as  usual.  It  was  most  six 
o'clock  then,  --it  always  is  either  most  six 
o'clock  or  most  noon  when  I  get  nearest  to 
being  interested, —  and  that  night  great'things 
was  going  to  be  going  on.  Mis'  Sykes  and 
Mis'  Toplady  and  the  School  Board  and  I 
was  going  to  have  a  tableau  of  our  own. 

"But  for  all  that  I  couldn't  help  standing 
still  a  minute  and  looking  after  the  automobile. 
It  seemed  as  bad  as  some  kind  of  a  planet, 
carrying  Robin  off  for  forever  and  ever.  And 
I  wasn't  so  clear  that  I  fancied  its  orbit. 

"'I've  got  a  whole  string  of  minds  not  to 
go  to  that  party  myself,'  I  says,  meditative. 

"But  Insley  never  answered.  He  just  come 
on  around  the  Cadozas'  house. 


IX 

"I  NEVER  speak  much  about  my  relations, 
because  I  haven't  got  many.  If  I  did  have,  I 
suppose  I  should  be  telling  about  how  peculiar 
they  take  their  tea  and  coffee,  and  what  they 
died  of,  and  showing  samples  of  their  clothes 
and  acting  like  my  own  immediate  family 
made  up  life,  just  like  most  folks  does.  But 
I  haven't  got  much  of  any  relatives,  nor  no 
ancestors  to  brag  about.  'Nothing  for  kin  but 
the  world,'  I  always  say. 

"But  back  in  the  middle  of  June  I  had  got 
a  letter  from  a  cousin,  like  a  bow  from  the 
blue.  And  the  morning  I  got  it,  and  with  it 
yet  unopened  in  my  hand,  Silas  Sykes  come 
out  from  behind  the  post-office  window  and 
tapped  me  on  the  arm. 

"'Calliope,'  he  says,  'we've  about  made  up 
our  minds --the  School  Board  an'  some  o'  the 
leadin'  citizens  has  --  to  appoint  a  Women's 
Evenin'  Vigilance  Committee,  secret.  An'  we 
want  you  an'  Mis'  Toplady  an'  Mis'  Sykes 
should  be  it.' 

206 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  207 

"'Vigilance,'  I  says,  thoughtful.  'I  recol 
lect  missin'  on  the  meanin'  of  that  word  in 
school.  I  recollect  I  called  it  "viligance"  an' 
said  it  meant  a  'bus.  I  donno  if  I  rightly 
know  what  it  means  now,  Silas.' 

"Silas  cleared  his  throat  an'  whispered  hoarse, 
in  a  way  he's  got :  'Women  don't  have  no  call, 
much  for  the  word,'  he  says.  'It  means  when 
you  sic  your  notice  onto  some  one  thing.  We 
want  a  committee  of  you  women  should  do  it.' 

'"Notice  what?1  I  says,  some  mystified. 
'What  the  men  had  ought  to  be  up  to  an'  ain't  ? ' 

"But  customers  come  streaming  into  the 
post-office  store  then,  and  some  folks  for  their 
mail,  and  Silas  set  a  time  a  couple  o'  days  later 
in  the  afternoon  for  Mis'  Toplady  and  Mis' 
Sykes  and  me  to  come  down  to  the  store  and 
talk  it  over. 

"'An'  you  be  here,'  says  Silas,  beatin'  it  off 
with  his  finger.  'It's  somethin'  we  got  to  do 
to  protect  our  own  public  decency.' 

"'Public  decency,'  I  says  over,  thoughtful, 
and  went  out  fingerin'  my  letter  that  was  in  a 
strange  handwriting  and  that  I  was  dying  to 
read. 

"It  was  a  couple  of  days  later  that  I  what- 
you-might-say  finished  that  letter,  and  between 
times  I  had  it  on  the  clock-shelf  and  give  every 


2o8  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

spare  minute  to  making  it  out.  Minerva  Beach 
the  letter  was  from  —  my  cousin  Minnie  Beach's 
girl.  Minnie  had  died  awhile  before,  and 
Minerva,  her  daughter,  was  on  her  way  West 
to  look  for  a  position,  and  should  she  spend  a 
few  days  with  me  ?  That  was  what  I  made 
out,  though  I  donno  how  I  done  it,  for  her 
writing  was  so  big  and  so  up-and-down  that 
every  letter  looked  like  it  had  on  corsets  and 
high  heels.  I  never  see  such  a  mess  !  It 
was  like  picking  out  a  crochet  pattern  to  try 
to  read  it. 

"  I  recollect  that  I  was  just  finishing  compos 
ing  my  letter  telling  her  to  come  along,  and 
hurrying  so's  to  take  it  to  mail  as  I  went  down 
to  the  Vigilance  Committee  meeting,  when  the 
new  photographer  in  town  come  to  my  door, 
with  his  horse  and  buggy  tied  to  the  gate. 
J.  Horace  Myers  was  his  name,  and  he  said  he 
was  a  friend  of  the  Topladys,  and  he  was  staying 
with  them  while  he  made  choice  art  photo 
graphs  of  the  whole  section ;  and  he  wanted 
to  take  a  picture  of  my  house.  He  was  a  dapper 
little  man,  but  awful  tired-seeming,  so  I  told 
him  to  take  the  picture  and  welcome,  and  I 
put  the  stone  dog  on  the  front  porch  and  looped 
the  parlour  curtains  over  again  and  started  off 
for  the  meeting. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  209 

'"I'll  be  up  to  show  you  the  proofs  in  a  few 
days,'  he  says  as  I  was  leaving.  He  was  fixing 
the  black  cloth  over  his  head,  kind  of  listless 
and  patient. 

"'Land!'  I  says,  before  I  knew  it,  'don't 
you  get  awful  sick  of  takin'  pictures  of  humbly 
houses  you  don't  care  nothin'  about  ?' 

"He  peeked  out  from  under  the  black  cloth 
sort  of  grateful.  'I  do,'  he  says,  simple, — 
'sick  enough  to  bust  the  camera.' 

'"Well,  I  should  think  you  would,'  I  says 
hearty ;  and  I  went  down  Daphne  Street  with 
the  afternoon  kind  of  feeling  tarnished.  I  was 
wondering  how  on  earth  folks  go  on  at  all  that 
dislikes  their  work  like  that.  There  was  Abe 
Luck,  just  fixing  the  Sykes's  eaves-trough  — 
what  was  there  to  like  about  fixing  eaves- 
troughs  and  about  the  whole  hardware  business  ? 
Jimmy  Sturgis  coming  driving  the  'bus,  Eppleby 
Holcomb  over  there  registering  deeds,  Mis' 
Sykes's  girl  Em'ly  washing  windows,  —  what 
was  there  about  any  of  it  to  like  doing  ?  I 
looked  at  Mis'  Sykes's  Em'ly  real  pitying, 
polishing  panes  outside,  when  Abe  Luck  come 
climbing  down  the  ladder  from  the  roof;  and 
all  of  a  sudden  I  see  Abe  stick  his  head  through 
the  rungs,  and  quick  as  a  flash  kiss  Mis'  Sykes's 
Em'ly. 


210  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"'My  land  !'  I  started  to  think,  'Mis'  Sykes 
had  ought  to  discharge  -  and  then  I  just 
stopped  short  off,  sudden.  Her  hating  windows, 
and  him  hating  eaves-troughs,  and  what  else 
did  either  of  them  have  ?  Nothing.  I  could 
sense  their  lives  like  I  could  sense  my  own  — 
level  and  even  and  darn.  And  all  at  once  I  had 
all  I  could  do  to  keep  from  being  glad  that 
Abe  Luck  had  kissed  Em'ly.  And  I  walked 
like  lightning  to  keep  back  the  feeling. 

"Mis'  Sykes  and  Mis'  Toplady  was  to  the 
post-office  store  before  me.  It  was  a  slack  time 
of  day,  and  Silas  set  down  on  a  mail-bag  and 
begun  outlining  the  situation  that  he  meant 
about. 

"'The  School  Board,'  says  Silas,  important, 
'has  got  some  women's  work  they  want  done. 
It's  a  thing,'  s'he,  'that  women  can  do  the  best  — 
I  mean  it's  the  girls  an'  boys,  hangin'  round 
evenin's -- you  know  we've  all  talked  about  it. 
But  somebody's  got  to  get  after  'em  in  earnest, 
an'  see  they  don't  disgrace  us  with  their  carryin' 
on  in  the  streets,  evenin's.' 

"'Why  don't  the  men  do  it?'  I  ask'  him, 
wonderin',  'or  is  it  'count  of  offending  some  ?'  ; 

'"No  such  thing!'  says  Silas,  touchy. 
'Where's  your  delicate  feelin's,  Calliope  ?  Wo 
men  can  do  these  things  better  than  men. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  211 

This  is  somethin'  delicate,  that  had  ought  to 
be  seen  to  quiet.  It  ain't  a  matter  for  the  au 
thorities.  It's  women's  work,'  says  he.  'It's 
women  that's  the  mothers --it  ain't  the  men,' 
says  Silas,  convincing. 

"But  still  I  looked  at  him,  real  meditative. 
'What  started  you  men  off  on  that  tack  at  this 
time  ?'  I  ask'  him,  blunt  —  because  young  folks 
had  been  flooding  the  streets  evenings  since  I 
could  remember,  and  no  Friendship  Village  man 
had  ever  acted  like  this  about  it. 

'Well,'  says  Silas,  'don't  you  women  tell 
it  out  around.  But  the  thing  that's  got  us 
desperate  is  the  schoolhouse.  The  entry  to 
it — they've  used  it  shameful.  Peanut  shucks, 
down-trod  popcorn,  paper  bags,  fruit  peelin's 
—  every  mornin'  the  stone  to  the  top  o'  the 
steps,  under  the  archway,  is  full  of  'em.  An' 
last  week  the  Board  went  up  there  early  mornin' 
to  do  a  little  tinkerin',  an'  there  set  three  beer 
bottles,  all  empty.  So  we've  figgered  on  puttin' 
some  iron  gates  up  to  the  schoolhouse  entry 
an'  appointin'  you  women  a  Vigilance  Com 
mittee  to  help  us  out.' 

"\Ve  felt  real  indignant  about  the  school- 
house.  It  stands  up  a  little  slope,  and  you 
can  see  it  from  'most  anywheres  daytimes, 
and  we  all  felt  kind  of  an  interest  —  though 


212  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

of  course   the   School   Board  seemed  to  own  it 
special. 

"Mis'  Toplady  looked  warm  and  worried. 
'But  what  is  it  you  want  we  should  do,  Silas  ?' 
she  ask',  some  irritable.  'I've  got  my  hands 
so  full  o'  my  own  family  it  don't  seem  as  if 
I  could  vigilance  for  nobody.' 

"'S-h-h,  Mis'  Toplady.  /  think  it's  a  great 
trust,'  says  Mis'  Silas  Sykes. 

"'It  is  a  great  trust,'  says  Silas,  warm, 
'to  get  these  young  folks  to  stop  gallivantin' 
an'  set  home  where  they  belong.' 

'"How  you  going  to  get  them  to  set  home, 
Silas  ?'  I  ask',  some  puzzled. 

"'Well,'  says  Silas,  'that's  where  they  ought 
to  be,  ain't  it  ?' 

:'Why,'  I   says  thoughtful,  'I  donno's  they 
had.' 

"'What?"*  says  Silas,  with  horns  on  the  word. 
'What  say,  Calliope  ?' 

"How  much  settin'  home  evenings  did  you 
do  when  you  was  young,  Silas  ?'  I  says. 

"'I'd  'a'  been  a  long  sight  better  off  if  I'd 
'a'  done  more  of  it,'  says  Silas. 

"'However  that  is,  you  didn't  set  home,' 
I  says  back  at  him.  'Neither  will  young  folks 
set  there  now,  I  don't  believe.' 

"'WTell,'  says  Silas,   'anyhow,  they've  got  to 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  213 

get  off'n  the  streets.  We've  made  up  our 
minds  to  that.  They  can't  set  on  steps  nor 
in  stairways  down  town,  nor  in  entries,  nor  to 
the  schoolhouse.  We've  got  to  look  out  for 
public  decency.' 

"'Public  decency,'  says  I,  again.  'They  can 
do  what  they  like,  so's  public  decency  ain't 
injured,  I  s'pose,  Silas  ?' 

"'No  such  thing!'  shouts  Silas.  'Calliope, 
take  shame  !  Ain't  we  doin'  our  best  to  start 
'em  right  ?' 

'"That's  what  I  donno,'  I  answers  him, 
troubled.  'Driving  folks  around  don't  never 
seem  to  me  to  be  a  real  good  start  towards 
nowheres.' 

"Mis'  Amanda  Toplady  hitched  forward 
in  her  chair  and  spoke  for  the  first  time  —  pon 
derous  and  decided,  but  real  sweet,  too.  'What 
I  think  is  this,'  she  says.  'They  won't  set 
home,  as  Calliope  says.  And  when  we've 
vigilanced  'em  off  the  streets,  where  are  we 
goin'  to  vigilance  'em  to?' 

'"That  ain't  our  lookout,'  says  Silas. 

"'Aint'  it  ?'  says  Mis'  Toplady.  'Ain't  it?  ' 
She  set  thinking  for  a  minute  and  then  her  face 
smoothed.  'Anyhow,'  she  says,  comfortable, 
'us  ladies'll  vigilance  awhile.  It  ain't  clear  in  my 
mind  yet  what  to  do.  But  we'll  do  it,  I  guess.' 


214  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"We  made  up  that  we  three  should  come 
down  town  one  night  that  week  and  look  around 
and  see  what  we  see.  We  all  knew  —  every 
woman  in  Friendship  Village  knew  —  how  even 
ings,  the  streets  was  full  of  young  folks,  loud 
talking  and  loud  laughing  and  carrying  on. 
We'd  all  said  to  each  other,  helpless,  that  we 
wisht  something  could  be  done,  but  that  was  as 
far  as  anybody'd  got.  So  we  made  it  up  that 
we  three  should  be  down  town  in  a  night  or 
two,  so's  to  get  our  ideas  started,  and  Silas 
was  to  have  Timothy  Toplady  and  Eppleby 
Holcomb,  that's  on  the  School  Board,  down 
to  the  store  so  we  could  all  talk  it  over  together 
afterwards.  But  still  I  guess  we  all  felt  sort 
of  vague  as  to  what  we  was  to  drive  at. 

"'It  seems  like  Silas  wanted  us  to  unwind 
a  ball  o'  string  from  the  middle  out,'  says  Mis' 
Toplady,  uneasy,  when  we'd  left  the  store. 

"A  few  days  after  that  Alinerva  come.  I 
went  down  to  the  depot  to  meet  her,  and  I 
would  of  reco'nized  her  anywheres,  she  looked  so 
much  like  her  handwriting.  She  was  dressed 
sort  of  tawdry  swell.  She  had  on  a  good  deal. 
But  out  from  under  her  big  hat  with  its  cheap 
plume  that  was  goin'  to  shed  itself  all  over  the 
house,  I  see  her  face  was  little  and  young  and 
some  pretty  and  excited.  Excited  about  life 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  215 

and  new  things  and  moving  around.  I  liked  her 
right  off.  'Land  !'  thinks  I,  'you'll  try  me  to 
death.  But,  you  poor,  nice  little  thing,  you 
can  if  you  want  to.' 

"I  took  her  home  to  supper.  She  talked 
along  natural  enough,  and  seemed  to  like  every 
thing  she  et,  and  then  she  wiped  the  dishes  for 
me,  and  looked  at  herself  in  the  clock  looking- 
glass  all  the  while  she  was  doing  it.  Then,  when 
I'd  put  out  the  milk  bottles,  we  locked  up  the 
back  part  of  the  house  and  went  and  set  in  the 
parlour. 

"I'd  always  thought  pretty  well  of  my  par 
lour.  It  hasn't  anything  but  a  plush  four- 
piece  set  and  an  ingrain  and  Nottinghams,  but 
it's  the  parlour,  and  I'd  liked  it.  But  when 
we'd  been  setting  there  a  little  while,  and  I'd 
asked  her  about  everybody,  and  showed  her 
their  pictures  in  the  album,  all  of  a  sudden  it 
seemed  as  if  they  wasn't  anything  to  do  in  the 
parlour.  Setting  there  and  talking  was  nice, 
but  I  missed  something.  And  I  thought  of 
this  first  when  Minerva  got  up  and  walked  kind 
of  aimless  to  the  window. 

"'How  big  is  Friendship  Village?'  she  ask'. 

"I  told  her,  real  proud. 

'"They  can't  be  a  great  deal  goin'  on  here, 
is  they  ?'  she  says. 


2i 6  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

"'Land,  yes  !'  I  says.  'We're  so  busy  we're 
nearly  dead.  Ladies'  Aid,  Ladies'  Missionary, 
Cemetery  Improvement  Sodality,  the  rummage 
sale  coming  on,  the  bazaar,  and  I  donno  what 
all.' 

"'Oh,'  she  says,  vague.  'Well  —  is  they  many 
young  people  ?' 

"And  when  I'd  told  her,  'Quite  a  few,'  she 
didn't  say  anything  more  —  but  just  stood 
looking  down  the  street.  And  pretty  soon  I 
says,  'Land  !  the  parlour's  kind  o'  stuffy  to 
night.  Let's  go  out  in  the  yard.'  And  when 
we'd  walked  around  out  there  a  minute,  smell 
ing  in  my  pinks,  I  thought,  t  Land  !  it's  kind 
o'  dreary  doin'  this,'  an'  I  says  to  her  all  of  a 
sudden,  'Let's  go  in  the  house  and  make  some 
candy.' 

"'Oh,  let's,9  she  says,  like  a  little  girl. 

"We  went  back  in  and  lit  the  kitchen  fire, 
and  made  butter-scotch  --  she  done  it,  being 
real  handy  at  it.  She  livened  up  and  flew 
around  and  joked  some,  and  the  kitchen  looked 
nice  and  messy  and  used,  and  we  had  a  real 
good  time.  And  right  in  the  midst  of  it  there 
come  a  rap  at  the  side  door  and  there  stood  the 
dapper,  tired-looking  little  photograph  man, 
J.  Horace  Myers,  seeming  as  discouraged  as  he 
could. 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  217 

"We  spread  out  the  proofs  of  the  pictures  of 
my  house  and  spent  some  time  deciding.  And 
while  we  was  deciding,  he  showed  us  some  more 
pictures  that  he'd  made  of  the  town,  and  talked 
a  little  about  them.  He  was  a  real  pleasant, 
soft-spoken  man,  and  he  knew  how  to  laugh  and 
when  to  do  it.  He  see  the  funny  in  things  — 
he  see  that  the  post-office  looked  like  a  rabbit 
with  its  ears  up ;  he  see  that  the  engine-house 
looked  like  it  was  lifting  its  eyebrows ;  and  he 
see  the  pretty  in  things,  too --he  showed  us  a 
view  or  two  he'd  took  around  Friendship  Village 
just  for  the  fun  of  it.  One  was  Daphne  Street, 
by  the  turn,  and  he  says  :  'It  looks  like  a  deep 
tunnel,  don't  it  ?  An'  like  you  wanted  to  go 
down  it  ?'  He  was  a  wonderful  nice,  neutral 
little  man,  and  I  enjoyed  looking  at  his  pictures. 

"But  Minerva--!  couldn't  help  watching 
her.  She  wasn't  so  interested  in  the  pictures, 
and  she  wasn't  so  quick  at  seeing  the  funny  in 
things,  nor  the  pretty,  either ;  but  even  the  candy 
making  hadn't  livened  her  up  the  way  that  little 
talking  done.  She  acted  real  easy  and  told  some 
little  jokes ;  and  when  the  candy  was  cool,  she 
passed  him  some ;  and  I  thought  it  was  all  right 
to  do.  And  he  sort  of  spruced  up  and  took 
notice  and  quit  being  so  down-in-the-mouth. 
And  I  thought,  'Land  !  ain't^it  funny  how  just 


218  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

being  together  makes  human  beings,  be  they 
agent  or  be  they  cousin,  more  themselves  than 
they  was  before  !' 

"Her  liking  company  made  me  all  the  more 
sorry  to  leave  Minerva  alone  that  next  evening, 
that  was  the  night  Mis'  Sykes  and  Mis'  Toplady 
and  I  was  due  to  a  tableau  of  our  own  in  the 
post-office  store.  It  was  the  night  when  the 
Vigilance  Committee  was  to  have  its  first  real 
meeting  with  the  School  Board.  But  I  lit  the 
lamp  for  Minerva  in  the  parlour,  and  give  her 
the  day's  paper,  and  she  had  her  sewing,  and 
when  Mis'  Toplady  and  Mis'  Sykes  come  for  me, 
I  went  off  and  left  her  setting  by  the  table.  My 
parlour  had  been  swept  that  day,  and  it  was  real 
tidy  and  quiet  and  lamp-lit ;  and  yet  when  Mis' 
Toplady  and  Mis'  Sykes  and  I  stepped  out  into 
the  night,  all  smelling  of  pinks  and  a  new  moon 
happening,  and  us  going  on  that  mission  we 
wasn't  none  of  us  sure  what  it  was,  the  dark  and 
the  excitement  sort  of  picked  me  up  and  I  felt 
like  I  never  felt  in  my  parlour  in  my  life  —  all 
kind  of  young  and  free  and  springy. 

'"Let's  us  walk  right  down  through  town 
first,'  says  Mis'  Toplady.  'That's  where  the 
young  folks  gets  to,  seems  though.' 

"'Well-a,  I  don't  see  the  necessity  of  that,' 
says  Mis'  Sykes.  '  We've  all  three  done  that 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  219 

again    and   again.     We   know   how   it   is    down 
there  evenings.' 

"'But,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  in  her  nice,  stub 
born  way,  '  let's  us,  anyway.  I  know,  when  I 
walk  through  town  nights,  I'm  'most  always 
hurrying  to  get  my  yeast  before  the  store  shuts, 
an'  I  never  half  look  around.  To-night  let's 

look: 

"Well,  we  looked.  Along  by  the  library 
windows  in  some  low  stone  ledges.  In  front  of  a 
store  or  two  they  was  some  more.  Around  the 
corner  was  a  place  where  they  was  some 
new  tombstones  piled  up,  waiting  for  their 
folks.  And  half  a  block  down  was  the  canal 
bridge.  And  ledges  and  bridge  and  tombstones 
and  streets  was  alive  with  girls  and  boys  — 
little  young  things,  the  girls  with  their  heads  tied 
in  bright  veils  and  pretty  ribbons  on  them,  and 
their  laughs  just  shrilling  and  thrilling  with  the 
sheer  fun  of  hanging  around  on  a  spring  night. 

"'Land!'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  'what  is  their 
mothers  thinkin'  of?' 

"But  something  else  was  coming  home  to  me. 

"  'I  dunno,'  I  says,  kind  of  scairt  at  the  way  I 
felt,  'if  I  had  the  invite,  this  spring  night,  all 
pinks  and  new  moons,  I  donno  but  I'd  go  and 
hang  over  a  tombstone  with  'em!' 

" '  Calliope  ! '  says  Mis'  Sykes,  sharp.    But  Mis' 


220  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

Toplady,  she  kind  of  chuckled.  And  the  crowd 
jostled  us  —  more  young  folks,  talking  and  laugh 
ing  and  calling  each  other  by  nicknames,  and  we 
didn't  say  no  more  till  we  got  up  in  the  next 
block. 

"  There's  a  vacant  store  there  up  towards 
the  wagon  shop,  and  a  house  or  two,  and  that's 
where  the  open  stairways  was  that  Silas  meant 
about.  Everything  had  been  shut  up  at  six 
o'clock,  and  there,  sure  as  the  world,  'most  every 
set  of  steps  and  every  stairway  had  its  couple, 
sitting  and  laughing  and  talking,  like  the  place 
was  difTer'nt  sofas  in  a  big  drawing-room,  or 
rocks  on  a  seashore,  or  like  that. 

"'Mercy!'  says  Mis'  Sykes.  'Such  goin'- 
ons  !  Such  bringin'-ups  !' 

"Just  then  I  recollect  I  heard  a  girl  laugh  out, 
pretty  and  pleased,  and  I  thought  I  recognized 
Mis'  Sykes's  Em'ly's  voice,  and  I  thought  I 
knew  Abe  Luck's  answering  —  but  I  never  said 
a  word  to  Mis'  Sykes,  because  I  betted  she 
wouldn't  get  a  step  farther  than  discharging 
Em'ly,  and  I  was  after  more  steps  than  that. 
And  besides,  same  minute,  I  got  the  scent  of  the 
Bouncing  Bet  growing  by  the  wagon  shop  ;  and 
right  out  of  thin  air,  and  acrost  more  years  than 
I  like  to  talk  about,  come  the  quick  little  feeling 
that  made  me  know  the  fun,  the  sheer  fun,  that 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  221 

Em'ly  thought  she  was  having  and  that  she  had 
the  right  to. 

"'Oh,  well,  whoever  it  is,  maybe  they're  en 
gaged,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  soothin'. 

"'Oh,  but  the  bad  taste!'  says  Mis'  Sykes, 
shuddering.  Mis'  Sykes  is  a  good  cook  and  a 
good  enough  mother,  and  a  fair-to-middling 
housekeeper,  but  she  looks  hard  on  the  fringes 
and  the  borders  of  this  life,  and  to  her  'good 
taste'  is  both  of  them. 

"They  wrasn't  nobody  on  the  wagon  shop 
steps,  for  a  wonder,  and  we  set  down  there  for  a 
minute  to  talk  it  over.  And  wrhile  Mis'  Toplady 
and  Mis'  Sykes  was  having  it  out  between  them, 
I  set  there  a-thinking.  And  all  of  a  sudden 
the  night  sort  of  stretched  out  and  up,  and  I 
almost  felt  us  little  humans  crawling  around 
on  the  bottom  of  it.  And  one  little  bunch  of 
us  was  Friendship  Village,  and  in  Friendship  Vil 
lage  some  of  us  was  young.  I  kind  of  saw  the 
whole  throng  of  them  --  the  young  humans 
that  would  some  day  be  the  village.  There  they 
was,  bottled  up  in  school  all  day,  or  else  boxed 
in  a  store  or  a  factory  or  somebody's  kitchen, 
and  when  night  come,  and  summer  come,  and  the 
moon  come --land,  land!  they  wanted  some 
thing,  all  of  them,  and  they  didn't  know  what 
they  wanted. 


222  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"And  what  had  they  got  ?  There  was  the 
streets  stretching  out  in  every  direction,  each 
house  with  its  parlour -- four-piece  plush  set, 
mebbe,  and  ingrain  and  Nottinghams,  and  mebbe 
not  even  that,  and  mebbe  the  rest  of  the  family 
flooding  the  room,  anyway.  And  what  was  the 
parlour,  even  with  somebody  to  set  and  talk  to 
them  —  what  was  the  parlour,  compared  to  the 
magic  they  was  craving  and  couldn't  name  ?  The 
feeling  young  and  free  and  springy,  and  the 
wanting  somehow  to  express  it  ?  Something  to 
do,  somewheres  to  go,  something  to  see,  some 
body  to  be  with  and  laugh  with — no  wonder  they 
swept  out  into  the  dark  in  numbers,  no  wonder 
they  took  the  night  as  they  could  find  it.  They 
didn't  have  no  hotel  piazza  of  their  own,  no  boat- 
rides,  no  seashore,  no  fine  parties,  no  automobiles 
—  no  nothing  but  the  big,  exciting  dark  that  be 
longs  to  us  all  together.  No  wonder  they  took 
it  for  their  own. 

"Why,  Friendship  Village  was  no  more  than  a 
great  big  ball-room  with  these  young  folks  leaving 
the  main  floor  and  setting  in  the  alcoves,  to  un 
seen  music.  If  the  alcoves  had  been  all  palms 
and  expense  and  dressed-up  chaperons  on  the 
edges,  everything  would  of  seemed  right.  As 
it  was,  it  was  all  a  danger  that  made  my  heart 
ache  for  them,  and  for  us  all.  And  yet  it  come 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  223 

from  their  same  longing  for  fun,  for  joy  —  and 
where  was  they  to  get  it  ? 

"'Oh,  ladies  !'  I  says,  out  of  the  fulness  of  the 
lump  in  my  throat,  'if  only  we  had  some  place  to 
invite  'em  to  ! ' 

"'They  wouldn't  come  if  we  had,'  says  Mis' 
Sykes,  final. 

"'Not  come!'  I  says.  'With  candy  making 
and  pictures  and  music  and  mebbe  dancin'  ? 
Not  come  ! ' 

"'Dancin'!'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  low.  'Oh, 
Calliope,  I  donno  as  I'd  go  that  far.' 

'"We've  went  farther  than  that  long  ago,'  I 
says,  reckless.  'We've  went  so  far  that  the 
dangers  of  dancin'  would  be  safe  beside  the  dan 
gers  of  what  is.' 

"'But  we  ain't  responsible  for  that,'  says  Mis' 
Sykes. 

'"Ain't  we  —  ain't  weT  I  says,  like  Mis' 
Toplady  had.  'Mis'  Sykes,  how  much  does  Silas 
rent  the  post-office  hall  for,  a  night  ? ' 

'"Ten  dollars,  if  he  makes  something;  and 
five  dollars  at  cost,'  she  says. 

"'That's  it,'  I  says,  groaning.  'We  never 
could  afford  that,  even  to  ask  them  in  once  a 
week.  Oh,  we'd  ought  to  have  some  place  open 
every  night  for  them,  and  us  ladies  take  turns 
doing  the  refreshments  ;  but  they  ain't  no  place 
in  town  that  belongs  to  young  folks  - 


224  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

"And  all  of  a  sudden  I  stopped,  like  an  idee 
had  took  me  from  all  four  sides  of  my  head  at 
once. 

"'Why,  ladies/  I  says,  'look  at  the  school- 
house,  doing  nothing  every  night  out  of  the 
year  and  built  for  the  young  folks  !' 

"'Oh,  well,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  superior,  'you 
know  the  Board'd  never  allow  'em  to  use  the 
schoolhouse  that  way.  The  Board  wouldn't 
think  of  it !' 

"'Whose  Board?'  says  I,  stern.  'Ain't  they 
our  Board  ?  Yours  and  mine  and  Friendship 
Village's  ?  Come  on  —  come  on  and  put  it  to 
'em,'  I  says,  kind  o'  wild. 

"I  was  climbing  down  the  steps  while  I  spoke. 
And  we  all  went  down,  me  talking  on,  and  Mis' 
Toplady  catching  fire  on  the  minute,  an'  Mis' 
Sykes  holding  out  like  she  does  unless  so  be  she's 
thought  of  an  idea  herself.  But  oh,  Mis'  Top- 
lady,  she's  differ'nt. 

'"Goodness  alive  !'  she  said,  'why  ain't  some 
of  us  thought  o'  that  before  ?  Ain't  it  the  fun 
niest  thing,  the  way  folks  can  have  a  way  out 
right  under  their  noses,  an'  not  sense  it  ?' 

"I  had  never  had  a  new-born  notion  come  into 
my  head  so  ready-made.  I  could  hardly  talk  it 
fast  enough,  and  Mis'  Toplady  same  way,  and  we 
hurried  back  to  the  post-office  store,  Mis'  Sykes 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  225 

not  convinced  but  keeping  still  because  us  two 
talked  it  so  hard. 

"Silas  and  Timothy  and  Eppleby  Holcomb 
was  setting  in  the  back  part  of  the  post-office 
store  waiting  for  us,  and  Mis'  Toplady  and  I 
hurried  right  up  to  them. 

'"You  tell,  Calliope,'  says  Mis'  Toplady. 
'  It's  your  idee.' 

"But  first  we  both  told,  even  Mis'  Sykes 
joining  in,  shocked,  about  the  doorway  carryin' 
ons  and  all  the  rest.  'Land,  land  !'  Mis'  Top- 
lady  says,  'I  never  had  a  little  girl.  I  lost  my 
little  girl  baby  when  she  was  eleven  months. 
But  I  ain't  never  felt  so  like  shieldin1  her  from 
somethin'  as  I  feel  to-night.' 

"'It's  awful,  awful  !'  says  Timothy  Toplady, 
decided.  '  We've  just  got  to  get  some  law  goin', 
that's  all.' 

"Silas  agreed,  scowling  judicial.  'We  been 
talkin'  curfew,'  he  says.  'I  donno  but  we'll  hev 
to  get  the  curfew  on  'em.'  • 

"'Curfew!'  says  I.  'So  you're  thinking  of 
curfewin'  'em  off  the  streets.  Will  you  tell 
me,  Silas  Sykes,  where  you're  going  to  curfew 
'em  to?' 

"'Yes,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  'that's  what  I 
meant  about  vigilancin'  'em  off  somewheres. 
Where  to?  What  say,  Silas  ?' 

Q 


226  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

"'That  ain't  our  concern,  woman!'  shouts 
Silas,  exasperated  by  us  harping  on  the  one 
string.  'Them  young  folks  has  all  got  one  or 
more  parents.  Leave  'em  use  'em.' 

'"Yes,  indeed,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  nodding 
once,  with  her  eyes  shut  brief.  'An'  young 
people  had  ought  to  be  encouraged  to  do  evening 
studyinV 

"Mis'  Toplady  jerked  her  head  sideways. 
'Evenin'  fiddlestick!'  she  snaps,  direct.  'If 
you've  got  a  young  bone  left  in  your  body,  Mis' 
Sykes,'  says  she,  'you  know  you're  talkin'  non 
sense.' 

"'Ain't  you  no  idees  about  how  well-bred 
young  ladies  should  conduct  themselves  ? '  says 
Mis'  Sykes,  in  her  most  society  way. 

'"I  donno  so  much  about  well-bred  young 
ladies,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  frank.  'I  was  think- 
in'  about  just  girls.  Human  girls.  An'  boys  the 


same.' 


"'Me,  too,'  I  says,  fervent. 

"'What  you  goin'  to  do?'  says  Silas,  spreading 
out  his  hands  stiff  and  bowing  his  knees.  '  What's 
your  idee  ?  You've  got  to  have  a  workin'  idee 
for  this  thing,  same  as  the  curfew  is.' 

"'Oh,  Silas,'  I  says  then,  'that's  what  we've 
got  —  that's  what  we've  got.  Them  poor  young 
things  wants  a  good  time  —  same  as  you  and  all 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  227 

of  us  did,  and  same  as  we  do  yet.  Why  not  give 
'em  a  place  to  meet  and  be  together,  normal  and 
nice,  and  some  of  us  there  to  make  it  pleasant 
for  'em?' 

'"Heh!'  says  Silas.  'You  talk  like  a  dook. 
Where  you  goin'  to  get  a  place  for  'em  ?  Hire  the 
opery-house,  air  ye  ?' 

"No,  sir,'  I  says  to  him.  'Give  'em  the  place 
that's  theirs.  Give  'em  the  schoolhouse,  open 
evenings,  an'  all  lit  up  an'  music  an'  things 
doin'.' 

"'My  Lord  heavens!'  says  Silas,  that's  an 
elder  in  the  church  and  ain't  no  more  control  of 
his  tongue  than  a  hen.  'Air  you  crazy,  Calliope 
Marsh  ?  Plump,  stark,  starin'  ravin'  —  why, 
woman  alive,  who's  goin'  to  donate  the  light  an' 
the  coal  ?  You?'' 

"  'I  thought  mebbe  the  building  and  the  School 
Board,  too,  was  for  the  good  o'  the  young  folks,' 
I  says  to  him,  sharp. 

"So  it  is,'  says  Silas,  'it's  for  their  good.  It 
ain't  for  their  foolishness.  Can't  you  see  day 
light,  Calliope  ? ' 

'  Is   arithmetic   good    an'    morals    not,    Silas 
Sykes  ?'  I  says. 

"Then  Timothy  Toplady  let  loose  :  'A  school- 
buildin',  Calliope,'  s'he,  —  'why,  it's  a  dignified 
place.  They  must  respect  it,  same  as  they  would 


228  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

a  church.  Could  you  learn  youngsters  the  Con 
stitution  of  the  United  States  in  a  room  where 
they'd  just  been  cookin'  up  cough  drops  an' 
hearin'  dance  tunes  ?' 

"'Well,'  says  I,  calm,  'if  you  can't,  I'd  leave 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  go.  If 
it's  that  delicate,'  I  says  back  at  him,  'gimme 
the  cough  drops.' 

'"You're  talkin'  treason,'  says  Silas,  hoarse. 

"Timothy  groans.  'Dancin!9  he  says. 
'Amanda,'  he  says,  'I  hope  you  ain't  sunk  so  low 
as  Calliope  ?' 

"Mis'  Toplady  wavered  a  little.  She's  kind  of 
down  on  dancing  herself.  'Well,'  she  says,  'any 
how,  I'd  fling  some  place  open  and  invite  'em 
in  for  somethin9.9 

"'/  ain't  for  this,  Silas,'  says  Mis'  Sykes, 
righteous.  '/  believe  the  law  is  the  law,  and 
we'd  best  use  it.  Nothin'  we  can  do  is  as  good 
as  enforcin'  the  dignity  of  the  law.' 

'"Oh,  rot!'  says  Eppleby  Holcomb,  abrupt. 
Eppleby  hadn't  been  saying  a  word.  But  he 
looked  up  from  the  wood-box  where  he  was  set 
ting,  and  he  wrinkled  up  his  eyes  at  the  corners 
the  way  he  does  --it  wasn't  a  real  elegant  word 
he  picked,  but  I  loved  Eppleby  for  that  'rot.' 
'Asking  your  pardon,  Mis'  Sykes,'  he  says,  'I 
ain't  got  so  much  confidence  in  enforcin'  the  law 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  229 

as  I've  got  in  edgin'  round  an'  edgin'  round  ac- 
cordin'  to  your  cloth  —  an'  your  pattern.  An' 
your  pattern.' 

"'Lord  heavens  !'  says  Silas,  looking  glassy, 
'if  this  was  Roosia,  you  an'  Calliope'd  both  be 
hoofin'  it  hot-foot  for  Siberia.' 

"Well,  it  was  like  arguing  with  two  trees. 
They  wasn't  no  use  talking  to  either  Silas  or 
Timothy.  I  forget  who  said  what  last,  but  the 
meeting  broke  up,  after  a  little,  some  strained, 
and  we  hadn't  decided  on  anything.  Us  ladies 
had  vigilanced  one  night  to  about  as  much 
purpose  as  mosquitoes  humming.  And  I  said 
good  night  to  them  and  went  on  up  street,  won 
dering  why  God  lets  a  beautiful,  burning  plan 
come  waving  its  wings  in  your  head  and  your 
heart  if  he  don't  intend  you  to  make  a  way  for 
yourself  to  use  it. 

"Then,  by  the  big  evergreens  a  block  or  so 
from  my  house,  I  heard  somebody  laugh  —  a 
little,  low,  nice,  soft,  sort  of  foolish  laugh,  a 
woman's  laugh,  and  a  man's  voice  joined  in 
with  it,  pleasant  and  sort  of  singing.  I  was  right 
onto  them  before  they  see  me. 

"'I  thought  it  was  a  lonesome  town,'  says 
somebody,  'but  I  guess  it  ain't.' 

"And  there,  beside  of  me,  sitting  on  the  rail 
fence  under  the  evergreens,  was  Minerva  Beach, 


230  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

my  own  cousin,  and  the  little,  tired  photograph- 
taking  man.  I  had  just  bare  time  to  catch  my 
breath  and  to  sense  where  the  minute  really 
belonged -- that's  always  a  good  thing  to  do, 
ain't  it  ?  --  and  then  I  says,  cool  as  you  please  : 

"'Hello,  Minerva!  My!  ain't  the  night 
grand  ?  I  don't  wonder  you  couldn't  stay  in 
the  house.  How  do,  Mr.  Myers  ?  I  was 
just  remembering  my  lemon-pie  that  won't  be 
good  if  it  sets  till  to-morrow.  Come  on  in  and 
let's  have  it,  and  make  a  little  lemonade.' 

"Ordinarily,  I  think  it's  next  door  to  immoral 
to  eat  lemon-pie  in  the  evening ;  but  I  had  to 
think  quick,  and  it  was  the  only  thing  like  a 
party  that  I  had  in  the  butt'ry.  Anyhow,  I 
was  planning  bigger  morals  than  ordinary,  too. 

"Well,  sir,  I'd  been  sure  before,  but  that  made 
me  certain  sure.  There  had  been  my  parlour 
and  my  porch,  and  them  two  young  people  was 
welcome  to  them  both ;  but  they  wanted  to  go 
somewheres,  natural  as  a  bird  wanting  to  fly  or 
a  lamb  to  caper.  And  there  I'd  been  living 
in  Friendship  Village  for  sixty  years  or  so,  and 
I'd  reco'nized  the  laws  of  housekeeping  and 
debt  paying  and  grave  digging  and  digestion, 
and  I'd  never  once  thought  of  this,  that's  as 
big  as  them  all. 

"Ain't    it  nice  the    way    God    has    balanced 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  231 

towns  !  He  never  puts  in  a  Silas  Sykes  that  he 
don't  drop  in  an  Eppleby  Holcomb  somewheres 
to  undo  what  the  Silases  does.  It  wasn't  much 
after  six  o'clock  the  next  morning,  and  I  was  out 
after  kindling,  when  they  come  a  shadow  in  the 
shed  door,  and  there  was  Eppleby.  He  had  a  big 
key  in  his  hand. 

"'I'm  a-goin'  to  the  City,  Calliope,'  says  he. 
*  Silas  an'  Timothy  an'  I  are  a-goin'  up  to  the 
City  on  the  Dick  Dasher '  (that's  our  daily  ac 
commodation  train,  named  for  the  engineer). 
'  Silas  and  Timothy  is  set  on  buying  the  iron  gates 
for  the  schoolhouse  entry,  an'  I'm  goin'  along. 
He  put  the  key  in  my  hand,  meditative.  'We 
won't  be  back  till  the  ten  o'clock  Through,'  he 
says,  'an'  I  didn't  know  but  you  might  want  to 
get  in  the  schoolhouse  for  somethin'  to-night  — 
you  an'  Mis'  Toplady.' 

"I  must  of  stood  staring  at  him,  but  he 
never  changed  expression. 

"'The  key  had  ought  to  be  left  with  some 
one,  you  know,'  he  says.  'I'm  leavin'  it  with 
you.  You  go  ahead.  I'll  go  snooks  on  the 
blame.  Looks  like  it  was  goin'  to  be  another  nice 
day,  don't  it  ? '  he  says,  casual,  and  went  off  down 
the  path. 

"For  a  minute  I  just  stood  there,  staring  down 
at  the  key  in  my  hand.  And  then,  'Eppleby,'  I 


232  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

sings  after  him,   'oh,  Eppleby,'  I  says,  'I  feel 
just  like  I  was  going  to  crow  I'' 

"I  don't  s'pose  I  hesitated  above  a  minute. 
That  is,  my  head  may  have  hesitated  some,  like 
your  head  will,  but  my  heart  went  right  on 
ahead.  I  left  my  breakfast  dishes  standing  - 
a  thing  I  do  for  the  very  few  --  and  I  went 
straight  for  Mis'  Toplady.  And  she  whips  off  her 
big  apron  and  left  her  dishes  standing,  an'  off  we 
went  to  the  half  a  dozen  that  we  knew  we  could 
depend  on  —  Abagail  Arnold,  that  keeps  the 
home  bakery,  Mis'  Holcomb-that-was-Mame- 
Bliss,  Mis'  Fire  Chief  Merriman,  that's  going  to 
be  married  again  and  has  got  real  human  tow 
ards  other  folks,  like  she  wasn't  in  her  mourning 
grief --we  told  'em  the  whole  thing.  And  we 
one  and  all  got  together  and  we  see  that  here  was 
something  that  could  be  done,  right  there  and 
then,  so  be  we  was  willing  to  make  the  effort, 
big  enough  and  unafraid. 

"When  I  remember  back,  that  day  is  all  of  a 
whirl  to  me.  We  got  the  notice  in  the  daily 
paper  bold  as  a  lion,  that  there  would  be  a  party 
to  the  schoolhouse  that  night,  free  to  every 
body.  We  posted  the  notice  everywheres,  and 
sent  it  out  around  by  word  of  mouth.  And 
when  wre'd  gone  too  far  to  go  back,  we  walked 
in  on  Mis'  Sykes  —  all  but  Abagail,  that  had 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  233 

pitched  in  to  making  the  cakes  —  and  we  told  her 
what  we'd  done,  so  she  shouldn't  have  any  of  the 
blame. 

"She  took  it  calm,  not  because  calm  is  Chris 
tian,  I  bet,  but  because  calm  is  grand  lady. 

"'It's  what  I  always  said,'  says  she,  'would 
be  the  way,  if  the  women  run  things.' 

"'Women  don't  run  things,'  says  Mis'  Top- 
lady,  placid,  'an'  I  hope  to  the  land  they  never 
will.  But  I  believe  the  time'll  come  when  men 
an'  women'll  run  'em  together,  like  the  Lord 
meant,  an'  when  women  can  see  that  they're 
mothers  to  all  men  an'  not  just  to  their  little 
two-by-four  families.' 

'"My  duty  to  men  is  in  my  own  home,'  says 
Mis'  Sykes,  regal. 

"'So  is  mine,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  'for  a  be 
ginning.  But  it  don't  stop  in  my  wood  box  nor 
my  clothes-basket  nor  yet  in  my  mixin'-bowl.' 

"We  went  off  and  left  her  —  it's  almost  im 
possible  to  federate  Mis'  Sykes  into  anything. 
And  we  went  up  to  the  building  and  made  our 
preparations.  And  then  we  laid  low  for  the 
evening,  to  see  what  it  would  bring. 

"I  was  putting  on  my  hat  that  night  in  front 
of  the  hall-tree  looking-glass  when  J.  Horace 
Myers  come  up  on  the  front  porch  to  call  for 
Minerva.  He  was  all  dressed  up,  and  she  come 


234  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

downstairs  in  a  little  white  dimity  she  had, 
trimmed  with  lace  that  didn't  cost  much  of  any 
thing,  and  looking  like  a  picture.  They  sat  down 
on  the  porch  for  a  little,  and  I  heard  them  talking 
while  I  was  hunting  one  o'  my  gloves. 

"'Ain't  it  the  dandiest  night  ! '  says  J.  Horace 
Myers. 

"'Ain't  it!'  says  Minerva.  'I  should  say. 
My  !  I'm  glad  I  come  to  this  town  !' 

'"  I'm  awful  glad  you  did,  too,'  says  J.  Horace. 
'I  thought  first  it  was  awful  lonesome  here,  but 
I  guess  — ' 

'"They're  goin'  to  have  music  to-night,'  says 
Minerva,  irrelevant. 

"'Cricky  !'   says  the  little  photograph  man. 

"  Minerva  had  her  arm  around  a  porch  post 
and  she  sort  of  swung  back  and  forth  careless, 
and  —  'My!'  she  said,  'I  just  do  love  to  go. 
Have  you  ever  travelled  anywheres  ?' 

"'Texas  an'  through  there,'  he  says.  'I'm 
goin'  again  some  day,  when  - 

"'I'm  goin'  West  now,'  says  Minerva.  'I 
just  can't  stand  it  long  in  one  place,  unless,'  she 
added,  'it's  awful  nice.' 

"I'd  found  my  glove,  but  I  recollect  I  stood 
still,  staring  out  the  door.  I  see  it  like  I  never 
see  it  before  -  -  They  was  living.  Them  two 
young  things  out  there  on  my  porch,  and  all  the 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  235 

young  folks  of  Friendship  Village,  they  was 
just  living -- trying  to  find  a  future  and 
a  life  of  their  own.  They  didn't  know  it. 
They  thought  what  they  wanted  was  a  good  time, 
like  the  pioneers  thought  they  wanted  adven 
ture.  But  here  they  were,  young  pioneers 
of  new  villages,  flocking  together  wherever  they 
could,  seeking  each  other  out,  just  living. 
And  us  that  knew,  us  that  had  had  life,  too,  or 
else  had  missed  it,  we  was  just  letting  them 
live,  haphazard.  And  us  that  had  ought  to  of 
been  mothers  to  the  town  young,  no  less  than  to 
our  own  young,  had  been  leaving  them  live 
alone,  on  the  streets  and  stairways  and  school 
entries  of  Friendship  Village. 

"I  know  I  fair  run  along  the  street  to  the 
schoolhouse.  It  seemed  as  if  I  couldn't  get 
there  quick  enough  to  begin  the  new  way. 

"The  schoolhouse  was  lit  up  from  cellar  to 
garret  and  it  looked  sort  of  different  and  sur 
prised  at  itself,  and  like  it  was  sticking  its  head 
up.  Maybe  it  sounds  funny,  but  it  sort  of 
seemed  to  me  the  old  brick  building  looked  con 
scious,  and  like  it  had  just  opened  its  eyes  and 
turned  its  face  to  something.  Inside,  the  music 
was  tuning  up,  the  desks  that  was  only  part 
screwed  down  had  been  moved  back ;  in  one 
of  the  recitation-rooms  we'd  got  the  gas  plates 


236  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

for  the  candy  making,  and  Abagail  was  in  there 
stirring  up  lemonade  in  a  big  crock,  and  the 
other  ladies,  with  white  aprons  on,  was  bustling 
round  seeing  to  cutting  the  cakes. 

"It  wasn't  a  good  seven-thirty  before  they 
begun  coming  in,  the  girls  nipping  in  pretty 
dresses,  the  boys  awkward  and  grinning,  school 
girls,  shop-girls,  Mis'  Sykes's  Em'ly  an'  Abe 
Luck  and  everybody  -  -  they  come  from  all  di 
rections  that  night,  I  guess,  just  to  see  what  it 
was  like. 

"And  when  they  got  set  down,  I  realized  for 
the  first  time  that  the  law  and  some  of  the 
prophets  of  time  to  come  hung  on  what  kind  of 
a  time  they  had  that  first  night. 

"While  I  was  thinking  that,  the  music  struck 
into  a  tune,  hurry-up  time,  and  before  anybody 
could  think  it,  there  they  were  on  their  feet,  one 
couple  after  another.  And  when  the  lilty  sound 
of  the  dance  and  the  sliding  of  feet  got  to  going, 
like  magic  and  as  if  they  had  dropped  out  of  the 
walls,  in  come  them  that  had  been  waiting 
around  outside  to  see  what  we  was  really  going 
to  do.  They  come  in,  and  they  joined  in  and 
in  five  minutes  the  floor  was  full  of  them.  And 
after  being  boxed  in  the  house  all  day,  or 
bottled  in  shops  or  polishing  windows  or  mending 
eaves-troughs  or  taking  photographs  of  humbly 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  237 

houses  or  doing  I  donno  what-all  that  they  didn't 
like,  here  they  were,  come  after  their  good  time 
and  having  it  —  and  having  it. 

Mis'  Toplady  was  peeking  through  a  crack 
in  the  recitation-room  door. 

"'Dancin'!'  she  says,  with  a  little  groan.  'I 
donno  what  my  conscience'll  say  to  me  about 
this  when  it  gets  me  alone.' 

"'Well,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb-that-was-Mame- 
Bliss,  seeing  to  the  frosting  on  the  ends  of  her 
fingers,  'I  feel  like  they'd  been  pipin'  to  me  for 
years  an'  I'd  never  let  'em  dance.  An'  now 
they're  dancin'  up  here  safe  an'  light  an'  with  us. 
An'  I'm  glad  of  it,  to  my  marrow.' 

"  'I  know,'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  wiping  her  eyes. 
1 1  donno  but  my  marrow  might  get  use'  to  it.' 

"Long  about  ten  o'clock,  when  we'd  passed 
the  refreshments  and  everybody  had  carried 
their  own  plates  back  and  was  taking  the  candy 
out  of  the  tins,  I  nudged  Mis'  Toplady  and  we 
slipped  out  into  the  schoolhouse  entry  and 
set  down  on  the  steps.  We'd  just  heard  the 
Through  whistle,  and  we  knew  the  School  Board 
Iron  Gate  Committee  was  on  it,  and  that  they 
must  of  seen  the  schoolhouse  lit  from  'way  acrost 
the  marsh.  Besides,  I  was  counting  on  Eppleby 
to  march  them  straight  up  there. 

"And  so  he  done.     Almost  before  I  knew  it 


238  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

they  stepped  out  onto  us,  setting  there  in  the 
starlight.  I  stood  up  and  faced  them,  not  from 
being  brave,  but  from  intending  to  jump  first. 

'"Silas  and  Timothy,'  I  says,  'what's  done  is 
done,  but  the  consequences  ain't.  The  Women's 
Evening  Vigilance  Committee  that  you  ap 
pointed  yourself  has  tried  this  thing,  and  now  it's 
for  us  all  to  judge  if  it  works.' 

'"Heh  !'  says  Silas,  showing  his  teeth.  'Hed 
a  little  party,  did  you  ?  Thought  you'd  get  up 
a  little  party  an'  charge  it  to  the  Board,  did  you  ? 
Be  su'prised,  won't  you,  when  you  women  get 
a  bill  for  rent  an'  light  for  this  night's  perform 
ance  ?' 

"'Real  surprised,'  I  says,  dry. 

"'Amanda,'  pipes  up  Timothy,  'air  you  a 
fool  party  to  this  fool  doin's  ?' 

'"Oh,  shucks  !'  says  Mis'  Toplady,  tired.  'I 
been  doin'  too  real  things  to  row,  Timothy.' 

"'Nev'  mind,'  says  Silas,  pacific.  'WThen  the 
new  iron  gates  gets  here  for  this  here  entry, 
we  won't  have  no  more  such  doin's  as  this. 
They're  ordered,'  says  Silas,  like  a  bombshell, 
'to  keep  out  the  hoodlums.' 

"Then  Eppleby,  that  had  been  peeking 
through  the  schoolhouse  window,  whirled  around. 

"'Yes,'  says  he.  'Let's  put  up  the  gates  to 
keep  out  the  hoodlums.  But  what  you  going 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  239 

to  do  for  the  girls  and  boys  of  Friendship  Village 
that  ain't  hoodlums  ?  What  you  goin'  to  do 
for  them  ?  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  knew  all 
about  what  was  goin'  on  here  to-night,  and  I  give 
over  the  schoolhouse  key  myself.  And  now  you 
look  down  there.' 

"It  was  Friendship  Village  he  pointed  to, 
laying  all  around  the  schoolhouse  slope,  little 
lights  shining  for  homes.  And  Eppleby  went  on 
before  Silas  and  Timothy  could  get  the  breath 
to  reply :  — 

"'The  town's  nothin'  but  roots,  is  it?'  Ep 
pleby  says.  'Roots,  sendin'  up  green  shoots  to 
the  top  o'  this  hill  to  be  trained  up  here  into  some 
kind  of  shape  to  meet  life.  What  you  doin'  to 
'em  ?  Buildin'  'em  a  great,  expensive  school- 
house  that  they  use  a  few  hours  a  day,  part  o' 
the  year,  an'  the  rest  of  the  time  it  might  as  well 
be  a  hole  in  the  ground  for  all  the  good  it  does 
anybody.  An'  here's  the  young  folks,  that  you 
built  it  for  chasin'  the  streets  to  let  off  the  mere 
flesh-an'-blood  energy  the  Lord  has  give  to  'em. 
Put  up  your  iron  gates  if  you  want  to,  but  don't 
put  'em  up  till  the  evenin's  over  an'  till  there's 
been  some  sort  o'  doin's  here  like  this  to  give  'em 
what's  their  right.  Put  up  your  iron  gates,  but 
shame  on  the  schoolhouse  that  puts  'em  up  an' 
stops  there  !  Open  the  buildin'  in  the  name 


240  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

of  public  decency,  but  in  the  name  of  public 
decency,  don't  shut  it  up  !' 

"Timothy  was  starting  to  wave  his  arms 
when  Mis'  Toplady  stood  up,  quiet,  on  the  bot 
tom  step. 

"'Timothy,'  she  says,  'thirty-five  years  ago 
this  winter  you  an'  I  was  keepin'  company. 
Do  you  remember  how  we  done  it  ?  Do  you 
remember  singin'  school  ?  Do  you  remember 
spellin'  school  ?  Did  our  straw  ridin'  an'  sleigh 
ridin'  to  the  Caledonia  district  schoolhouse  for 
our  fun  ever  hurt  the  schoolhouse,  or  do  you 
s'pose  we  ever  learnt  any  the  less  in  it  ?  Well, 
I  remember ;  an'  we  both  remember ;  an' 
answer  me  this  :  Do  you  s'pose  them  young 
things  in  there  is  any  differ'nt  than  we  was  ? 
An'  what's  the  sin  an'  the  crime  of  what  they're 
doin'  now  ?  Look  at  'em  ! ' 

"She  pushed  open  the  door.  But  just  while 
we  was  looking,  the  music  struck  up  the  'Home 
Sweet  Home'  waltz,  and  they  all  melted  into 
dancing,  the  ladies  in  white  aprons  standing  by 
the  recitation-room  doors  looking  on. 

"'Dancin'f  says  Timothy,  shuddering  — 
but  looking,  too. 

"'Yes,'  says  Amanda,  brave  as  you  please, 
'ain't  it  pretty  ?  Lots  prettier  than  chasin'  up 
an'  down  Daphne  Street.  What  say,  Timothy  ?' 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  241 

"Eppleby  give  Silas  a  little  nudge.  'Le's 
give  it  a  trial/  he  says.  'This  is  the  Vigilance 
Committee's  idee.  Le's  give  it  a  trial.' 

"Silas  stood  bitin'  the  tail  of  his  beard.  'Go 
on  to  destruction  if  you  want  to  !'  he  says.  'I 
wash  my  hands  of  you  !' 

"'So  do  I,'  says  Timothy,  echoish,  'wash 
mine.' 

"Eppleby  took  them  both  by  the  shoulders. 
'Well,  then,  go  on  inside  a  minute,'  he  says  to 
'em.  'Don't  let's  leave  'em  all  think  we  got 
stole  a  march  on  by  the  women  !' 

"And  though  it  was  that  argument  that  made 
them  both  let  Eppleby  push  them  inside,  still, 
when  the  door  shut  behind  them,  I  knew  there 
wasn't  anything  more  to  worry  over.  But  me 
—  I  waited  out  there  in  the  entry  till  the  waltz 
was  through.  And  it.  was  kind  of  like  the  village 
down  there  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  was  listening, 
quiet,  to  great  councils. 


X 

"Up  to  Proudfit  House  the  conservatory 
wasn't  set  aside  from  everyday  living  for  just 
a  place  to  be  walked  through  and  looked  at 
and  left  behind  for  something  better.  It  was 
a  glass  regular  room,  full  of  green,  but  not  so 
full  that  it  left  you  out  of  account.  Willow 
chairs  and  a  family  of  books  and  open  windows 
into  the  other  rooms  made  the  conservatory  all 
of  a  piece  with  the  house,  and  at  one  end  the  tile 
was  let  go  up  in  a  big  You-and-me  looking  fire 
place,  like  a  sort  of  shrine  for  fire,  I  use'  to  think, 
in  the  middle  of  a  temple  to  flowers,  and  like 
both  belonged  to  the  household. 

"On  the  day  of  the  evening  company  at  Proud- 
fit  House  Robin  was  sitting  with  a  book  in  this 
room.  Pd  gone  up  that  day  to  do  what  I  could 
to  help  out,  and  to  see  to  Christopher  some. 
Him  Pd  put  to  taking  his  nap  quite  awhile  be 
fore,  and  I  was  fussing  with  the  plants  like  I  love 
to  do  --  it  seems  as  if  while  I  pick  off  dead  leaves 
and  give  the  roots  a  drink  I  was  kind  of  doing 
their  thinking  for  them.  When  I  heard  Alex 
Proudfit  coming  acrost  the  library,  I  started  to 

242 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  243 

go,  but  Robin  says  to  me,  'Don't  go,  Miss 
Marsh,'  she  says,  'stay  here  and  do  what  you're 
doing  —  if  you  don't  mind.' 

"'Land,'  thinks  I,  turning  back  to  the  ferns, 
'never  tell  me  that  young  ladies  are  getting  more 
up-to-date  in  love  than  they  use'  to  be.  My 
day,  she  would  of  liked  that  they  should  be  alone, 
so  be  she  could  manage  it  without  seeming  to.' 

"I  donno  but  I'm  foolish,  but  it  always  seems 
to  me  that  a  minute  like  that  had  ought  to 
catch  fire  and  leap  up,  like  a  time  by  itself.  In 
all  the  relationships  of  men  and  women,  it  seems 
like  no  little  commonplace  time  is  so  vital  as  the 
minute  when  the  man  comes  into  a  room  where 
a  woman  is  a-waiting  for  him.  There  is  about 
it  something  of  time  to  be  when  he'll  come,  not  to 
gloat  over  his  day's  kill,  or  to  forget  his  day's  care, 
but  to  talk  with  her  about  their  day  of  hardy  work. 
Habitual  arriving  in  a  room  again  and  again  for 
ever  can  never  quite  take  off,  seems  though,  the 
edge  of  that  coming  back  to  where  she  is.  ... 
.  .  .  But  somehow,  that  day,  Alex  Proudfit 
must  have  stepped  through  the  door  before  the 
minute  had  quite  caught  fire,  and  Robin  merely 
smiled  up  at  him,  calm  and  idle,  from  her  low 
chair  as  he  come  to  a  chair  beside  her. 

'"Tea,  Robin  Redbreast,'  says  he,  'is  going 
to  be  here  in  a  minute,  with  magnificent  maca- 


244  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

roons.  But  I  think  that  you  and  I  will  have 
it  by  ourselves.  Everybody  is  either  asleep  or 
pretending.  I'm  glad,'  he  tells  her,  'you're  the 
sort  that  can  do  things  in  the  evening  without 
resting  up  for  from  nine  to  ten  hours  preceding.' 

"'I'm  resting  now,'  Robin  said;  'this  is  quite 
heavenly -- this  green  room.' 

"He  looked  at  her,  eager.  'Do  you  like  it  ?' 
he  asked.  '  I  mean  the  room  —  the  house  ? ' 

"'Enormously,'  she  told  him.  'How  could  I 
help  it?' 

'"I  wanted  you  to  like  it,'  he  says.  'We  shall 
not  be  here  much,  you  know,  but  we  shall  be  here 
sometimes,  and  I'm  glad  if  you  feel  the  feeling 
of  home,  even  with  all  these  people  about.  It's 
all  going  very  decently  for  to-night,  thanks  to 
Mrs.  Emmons.  Not  a  soul  that  we  really 
wanted  has  failed  us.' 

'"Except  Mr.  Insley,'  Robin  says. 

'"Except  Insley,'  Alex  concedes,  'and  I  own 
I  can't  make  him  out.  Not  because  he  didn't 
come  here.  But  because  he  seems  so  enthusi 
astic  about  throwing  his  life  away.  Very  likely,' 
he  goes  on,  placid,  'he  didn't  come  simply  be 
cause  he  wanted  to  come.  Those  people  get 
some  sort  of  mediaeval  renunciation  mania,  I 
believe.  Robin,'  he  went  on,  'where  do  you 
think  you  would  like  to  live  ?  Not  to  settle 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  245 

down,  you  know,  but  for  the  Eternal  Place  To 
Come  Back  To  ? ' 

"'To  come  back  to  ?'  Robin  repeated. 

"'The  twentieth  century Jiome  is  merely  that, 
you  know,'  Alex  explained.  'We're  just  begin 
ning  to  solve  the  home  problem.  We've  tried 
to  make  home  mean  one  place,  and  then  we 
were  either  always  wanting  to  get  away  for  a 
while,  or  else  we  stayed  dreadfully  put,  which 
was  worse.  But  I  think  now  we  begin  to  see  the 
truth  :  Home  is  nowhere.  Rather,  it  is  every 
where.  The  thing  to  do  is  to  live  for  two  months, 
three  months,  in  a  place,  and  to  get  back  to 
each  place  at  not  too  long  intervals.  Home  is 
where  you  like  to  be  for  the  first  two  weeks. 
When  that  wears  off,  it's  home  no  more.  Then 
home  is  some  other  place  where  you  think  you'd 
like  to  be.  We  are  becoming  nomadic  again  — 
only  this  time  we  own  the  world  instead  of  being 
at  its  feet  for  a  bare  living.  You  and  I,  Robin 
Redbreast,  are  going  to  be  citizens  of  the  whole 
world.' 

"Robin  looked  over  at  him,  reflective.  And 
it  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  whole  race  of  women 
that  have  always  liked  one  place  to  get  in  and 
be  in  and  stay  in  spoke  from  her  to  Alex. 

"'But  I've  always  had  a  little  garden,'  she 
says. 


246  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

'"A  little  what?'  Alex  asks,  blank. 

'"Why,  a  garden,'  she  explains,  'to  plant  from 
year  to  year  so  that  I  know  where  things  are 
going  to  come  up.' 

"She  was  laughing,  but  I  knew  she  meant 
what  she  said,  too. 

"'My  word,'  Alex  says,  'why,  every  place  we 
take  shall  have  a  garden  and  somebody  to  grub 
about  in  it.  Won't  those  and  the  conservatories 
do  you  ?' 

'"I  like  to  get  out  and  stick  my  hands  in  the 
spring-smelly  ground,'  she  explains,  'and  to 
remember  where  my  bulbs  are.' 

'"But  I've  no  objection  to  bulbs,'  Alex  says. 
'None  in  the  world.  WV11  plant  the  bulbs  and 
take  a  run  round  the  world  and  come  back  to 
see  them  bloom.  No  ? ' 

'"And  not  watch  them  come  up  ?'  Robin 
says,  so  serious  that  they  both  laughed. 

'"We  want  more  than  a  garden  can  give,' 
Alex  says  then,  indulgent.  'We  want  what  the 
whole  world  can  give.' 

"  She  nodded.  'And  what  we  can  give  back  ? ' 
she  says. 

"He  leaned  toward  her,  touched  along  her 
hair. 

"'My  dear,'  he  said,  'we've  got  two  of  us  to 
make  the  most  of  we  can  in  this  life  :  that's  you 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  247 

and  I.  The  world  has  got  to  teach  us  a  number 
of  things.  Don't,  in  heaven's  name,  let's  be 
trying  to  teach  the  wise  old  world.' 

"  He  leaned  toward  her  and,  elbow  on  his 
knee,  he  set  looking  at  her.  But  she  was  look 
ing  a  little  by  him,  into  the  green  of  the  room, 
and  I  guess  past  that,  into  the  green  of  all 
outdoors.  I  got  up  and  slipped  out,  without 
their  noticing  me,  and  I  went  through  the 
house  with  one  fact  bulging  out  of  the  air  and 
occupying  my  brain.  And  it  was  that  sitting 
there  beside  him,  with  him  owning  her  future 
like  he  owned  his  own,  Robin's  world  was  as 
different  from  Alex's  as  the  world  is  from  the 
Proudfits'  conservatory. 

"I  went  up  to  Chris,  in  the  pretty,  pinky  room 
next  to  Robin's  and  found  him  sitting  up  in  bed 
and  pulling  the  ties  out  of  the  down  comforter, 
as  hard  as  he  could.  I  just  stood  still  and 
looked  at  him,  thinking  how  eating  and  drink 
ing  and  creating  and  destroying  seems  to  be  the 
native  instincts  of  everybody  born.  Destroy 
ing,  as  I  look  at  it,  was  the  weapon  God  give 
us  so  that  we  could  eat  and  drink  and  create 
the  world  in  peace,  but  we  got  some  mixed  up 
during  getting  born  and  we  got  to  believing  that 
destruction  was  a  part  of  the  process. 

"'Chris,'  I  says,  'what  you  pulling  out?' 


248  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"'I  donno  those  names  of  those,'  he  says.  'I 
call  'em  little  pulls.' 

"'What  are  they  for?'  I  ask'  him. 

"'I  donno  what  those  are  for,'  he  says,  'but 
they  come  out  slickery.' 

"Ain't  it  funny  ?  And  ain't  it  for  all  the  world 
the  way  Nature  works,  destroying  what  comes 
out  slickery  and  leaving  that  alone  that  resists 
her  ?  I  was  so  struck  by  it  I  didn't  scold  him 
none. 

"After  a  while  I  took  him  down  for  tea.  On 
the  way  he  picked  up  a  sleepy  puppy,  and  in  the 
conservatory  door  we  met  the  footman  with  the 
little  tea  wagon  and  the  nice,  drowsy  quiet  of 
the  house  went  all  to  pieces  with  Chris  in  it :  — 

"'Supper,  supper --here  comes  supper  on  a 
wagon,  runnin'  on  litty  wheels  goin'  wound  an 
a-w-o-u-n-d  -  says  he,  some  louder  than 
saying  and  almost  to  shouting.  He  sat  down 
on  the  floor  and  looked  up  expectant:  'Five 
lumps,'  he  orders,  not  having  belonged  to  the 
house  party  for  nothing. 

"'Tell  us  about  your  day,  Chris,'  Robin  asks. 
'What  did  you  do  ?' 

'"It  isn't  by,  is  it  ?'  Chris  says,  anxious.  'To 
day  didn't  stop  yet,  did  it  ?' 

'"Not  yet,'  she  reassures  him.  'Now  is  still 
now.' 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  249 

"'I  want  to-day  to  keep  being  now,'  Chris 
said,  '  because  when  it  stops,  then  the  bed  is  right 
there.  It  don't  be  anywhere  near  to-night,  is 
it  ?'  he  says. 

"'Not  very  near,'  Robin  told  him.  'Well, 
then,  what  are  you  doing  to-day  ? '  she  asks. 

"'I'm  to  the  house's  party,'  he  explained. 
'The  house  is  having  its  party.  An'  I'm  to  it.' 

"'Do  you  like  this  house,  dear  ?'  Robin  asked. 

" '  It's  nice,'  he  affirmed.  '  In  the  night  it  —  it 
talks  wiv  its  lights.  I  saw  it.  With  my  daddy. 
When  I  was  off  on  a  big  road.'  Chris  looked  at  her 
intent,  from  way  in  his  eyes.  'I  was  thinkin'  if 
my  daddy  would  come,'  he  says,  patient. 

"Robin  stoops  over  to  him,  quick,  and  he  let 
her.  He'd  took  a  most  tremendous  fancy  to  her, 
the  little  fellow  had,  and  didn't  want  her  long  out 
of  his  sight.  'Is  that  Robin  ?'  he  always  said, 
when  he  heard  anybody  coming  from  any  di 
rection.  She  give  him  a  macaroon,  now,  for 
each  hand,  and  he  run  away  with  the  puppy. 
And  then  she  turned  to  Alex,  her  face  bright 
with  whatever  she  was  thinking  about. 

"'Alex,'  she  says,  'he's  a  dear  little  fellow  — 
a  dear  little  fellow.  And  all  alone.  I've  wanted 
so  much  to  ask  you :  Can't  we  have  him  for 
ours  ? ' 

"Alex  looks   at  her,    all   bewildered  up  in  a 


250  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

minute.  'How  ours  ?'  he  asks.  'Do  you  mean 
have  him  educated  ?  That,  of  course,  if  you 
really  want  it.' 

"'No,  no,'  she  says.  ''Ours.  To  keep  with 
us,  bring  up,  make.  Let's  let  him  be  really 
ours.' 

"He  just  leaned  back  in  the  big  chair,  smiling 
at  her,  meditative. 

"'My  dear  Robin,'  he  says,  'it's  a  terrible 
responsibility  to  meddle  that  way  with  some 
body's  life.' 

"She  looked  at  him,  not  understanding. 

'"It's  such  an  almighty  assumption,'  he  went 
on,  'this  jumping  blithely  into  the  office  of 
destiny  -  -  keeping,  bringing-up,  making,  as  you 
say -- meddling  with,  I  call  it  —  anybody's 
life.' 

'"Isn't  it  really  meddling  to  let  him  be  in  a 
bad  way  when  we  can  put  him  in  a  better  one  ?' 
she  asked,  puzzled. 

"'I  love  you,  Robin,'  says  he,  light,  'but  not 
for  your  logic.  No,  my  dear  girl.  Assuredly 
we  will  not  take  this  child  for  ours.  What 
leads  you  to  suppose  that  Nature  really  wants 
him  to  live,  anyway  ? ' 

"I  looked  at  him  over  my  tea-cup,  and  for 
my  life  I  couldn't  make  out  whether  he  was 
speaking  mocking  or  speaking  plain. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  251 

"'If  Chris  is  to  be  inebriate,  criminal,  vicious, 
even  irresponsible,  as  his  father  must  be,'  Alex 
says,  'Nature  wants  nothing  of  the  sort.  She 
wants  to  be  rid  of  him  as  quickly  as  possible. 
How  do  you  know  what  you  are  saving  ?' 

"'How  do  you  know,'  Robin  says,  'what  you 
are  letting  go  ?' 

"'I  can  take  the  risk  if  Nature  can,'  he  con 
tends. 

"She  sat  up  in  her  chair,  her  eyes  bright  as 
the  daylight,  and  I  thought  her  eagerness  and 
earnestness  was  on  her  like  a  garment. 

"'You  have  nobody  to  refer  the  risk  to,' 
Robin  says,  '  Nature  has  us.  And  for  one,  I 
take  it.  So  far  as  Chris  is  concerned,  Alex, 
if  no  one  claims  him,  I  want  him  never  to  be 
out  of  touch  with  me.' 

"But  when  a  woman  begins  to  wear  that 
garment,  the  man  that's  in  love  with  her  —  un 
less  he  is  the  special  kind  —  he  begins  thinking 
how  much  sweeter  and  softer  and  womaner  she 
is  when  she's  just  plain  gentle.  And  he  always 
gets  uneasy  and  wants  her  to  be  the  gentle  way 
he  remembers  her  being  —  that  is,  unless  he's 
special,  unless  he's  special.  Like  Alex  got 
uneasy  now. 

"'My  heavens,  dear,'  he  says  —  and  I  judged 
Alex  had  got  to  be  one  of  them  men  that  lays  a 


252  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

lace  'dear'  over  a  haircloth  tone  of  voice,  and 
so  solemnly  believes  they're  keeping  their  tem 
per —  'My  heavens,  dear,  don't  misunderstand 
me.  Experiment  as  much  as  you  like.  Material 
is  cheap  and  abundant.  If  you  don't  feel  the 
responsibility,  have  him  educated  wherever 
you  want  to.  But  don't  expect  me  to  play 
father  to  him.  The  personal  contact  is  going 
it  a  little  too  strong.' 

'"That  is  exactly  what  he  most  needs,'  says 
Robin. 

"'Come,  dear,'  says  Alex,  'that's  elemental  — 
in  an  age  when  everybody  can  do  things  better 
than  one  can  do  them  oneself.' 

"She  didn't  say  nothing,  and  just  set  there, 
with  her  tea.  Alex  was  watching  her,  and  I 
knew  just  about  as  sure  what  he  was  thinking  as 
though  I  had  been  his  own  thought,  oozing 
out  of  his  mind.  He  was  watching  her  with 
satisfaction,  patterned  off  with  a  kind  of  quiet 
amusement  and  jabbed  into  by  a  kind  of  worryin' 
wonder.  How  exactly,  he  was  thinking,  she  was 
the  type  everlasting  of  Wife.  She  was  girlish, 
and  in  little  things  she  was  all  I'11-do-as-you-say, 
and  she  was  even  shy ;  he  believed  that  he  was 
marrying  a  girl  whose  experience  of  the  world 
was  commendably  slight,  whose  ideas  about 
it  was  kind  of  vague  —  commendably  again ; 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  253 

and  whose  ways  was  easy-handled,  like  skein 
silk.  By  her  little  firmnesses,  he  see  that  she 
had  it  in  her  to  be  firm,  but  what  he  meant  was 
that  she  should  adopt  his  ideas  and  turn  firm 
about  them.  He  had  it  all  planned  out  that 
he  was  going  to  embroider  her  brain  with  his 
notions  of  what  was  what.  But  all  of  a  sudden, 
now  and  then,  there  she  was  confronting  him  as 
she  had  just  done  then  with  a  serious,  settled  look 
of  Woman  --  the  Woman  everlasting,  wanting 
a  garden,  wanting  to  work,  wanting  a  child  .  .  . 

"In  the  doorway  back  of  Alex,  Bayless  come 
in,  carrying  a  tray,  but  it  didn't  have  no  card. 

"'It's  somebody  to  speak  with  you  a  minute, 
Mr.  Proudfit,'  says  Bayless.  'It's  Mr.  Insley.' 

"'Have  him  come  here,'  Alex  says.  'I  hope,' 
he  says,  when  the  man  was  gone,  'that  the  poor 
fellow  has  changed  his  mind  about  our  little 
festivities.' 

"Robin  sort  01  tipped  up  her  forehead.  'Why 
poor'?'1  she  asks. 

"'Poor,'  says  Alex,  absent,  'because  he  lives 
in  a  pocket  of  the  world,  instead  of  wearing  the 
world  like  a  garment  —  when  it  would  fit  him.' 

"I  was  just  setting  my  tea-cup  down  when 
she  answered,  and  I  recollect  I  almost  jumped : 

'"He  knows  something  better  to  do  with  the 
world  than  to  wear  it  at  all,'  was  what  she  said. 


254  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"I  looked  over  at  her.  And  maybe  it  was 
because  she  was  sort  of  indignant,  and  maybe  it 
was  because  she  thought  she  had  dared  quite  a 
good  deal,  but  all  of  a  sudden  something  sort 
of  seemed  to  me  to  set  fire  to  the  minute,  and 
it  leaped  up  like  a  time  by  itself  as  we  heard 
Insley's  step  crossing  the  library  and  coming 
towards  us.  .  .  . 

"When  he  come  out  where  we  were,  I  see 
right  off  how  pale  he  looked.  Almost  with  his 
greeting,  he  turned  to  Alex  with  what  he  had 
come  for,  and  he  put  it  blunt. 

"'I  was  leaving  the  Cadozas'  cottage  on  the 
Plank  Road  half  an  hour  ago,'  he  said.  'A  little 
way  along  I  saw  a  man,  who  had  been  walking 
ahead  of  me,  stagger  and  sprawl  in  the  mud. 
He  wasn't  conscious  when  I  got  to  him.  He  was 
little  --  I  picked  him  up  quite  easily  and  got  him 
back  into  the  Cadozas'  cottage.  He  still  wasn't 
conscious  when  the  doctor  came.  He  gave 
him  things.  We  got  him  in  bed  there.  And 
then  he  spoke.  He  asked  us  to  hunt  up  a  little 
boy  somewhere  in  Friendship  Village,  who  be 
longed  to  him.  And  he  said  the  boy's  name  was 
Chris.' 

"It  seemed  like  it  was  to  Alex  Proudfit's  inter 
ested  lifting  of  eyebrows  rather  than  to  Robin's 
exclamation  of  pity  that  Insley  answered. 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  255 

"'I'm  sorry  it  was  necessary  to  trouble  you,' 
he  says,  'but  Chris  ought  to  go  at  once.  I'll 
take  him  down  now.' 

"'That  man,'  Robin  says,  'the  father  — 
is  he  ill  ?  Is  he  hurt  ?  How  badly  is  he  off  ?' 

"'He's  very  badly  off,'  says  Insley,  'done  for, 
I'm  afraid.  It  was  in  a  street  brawl  in  the 
City --it's  his  side,  and  he's  lost  a  good  deal 
of  blood.  He  walked  all  the  way  back  here. 
A  few  hours,  the  doctor  thought  it  would  be, 
at  most.' 

"Robin  stood  up  and  spoke  like  what  she 
was  saying  was  a  take-for-granted  thing. 

"'Oh,'  she  says,  'poor,  poor  little  Chris. 
Alex,  I  must  go  down  there  with  him.' 

"Alex  looks  over  at  her,  incredulous,  and  spoke 
so:  'You  ?'  says  he.  'Impossible.' 

"I  was  just  getting  ready  to  say  that  of  course 
I'd  go  with  him,  if  that  was  anything,  when  from 
somewheres  that  he'd  gone  with  the  puppy, 
Chris  spied  Insley,  and  come  running  to  him. 

'"Oh,  you  are  to  the  house's  party,  too!' 
Chris  cried,  and  threw  himself  all  over  him. 

"Robin  knelt  down  beside  the  child,  and  the 
way  she  was  with  him  made  me  think  of  that 
first  night  when  she  see  him  at  the  church,  and 
when  her  way  with  him  made  him  turn  to  her 
and  talk  with  her  and  love  her  ever  since. 


256  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"'Listen,  dear,'  she  said.  'Mr.  Insley  came 
here  to  tell  you  something.  Something  about 
daddy  —  your  daddy.  Mr.  Insley  knows  where 
he  is,  and  he's  going  to  take  you  to  him.  But 
he's  very,  very  sick,  dear  heart  —  will  you  re 
member  that  when  you  see  him  ?  Remember 
Robin  told  you  that  ?' 

"There  come  on  his  little  face  a  look  of  being 
afraid  that  give  it  a  sudden,  terrible  grown-up- 
ness. 

"'Sick  like  my  mama  was  ?'  he  asked  in  a 
whisper.  'And  will  he  go  out,  like  my  mama  ?' 

"Robin  put  her  arm  about  him,  and  he  turned 
to  her,  clung  to  her. 

" '  You  come,  too,  Robin,'  he  said.  'You  come, 
too!' 

"She  got  up,  meeting  Alex's  eyes  with  her 
straight  look. 

" '  I  must  go,  Alex,'  she  said.  'He  wants  me  — 
needs  me.  Why,  how  could  I  do  anything  else  ?' 

"Alex  smiles  down  at  her,  with  his  way  that 
always  seemed  to  me  so  much  less  that  of  living 
every  minute  than  of  watching  it  live  itself 
about  him. 

'"May  I  venture  to  remind  you,'  he  says  — 
like  a  little  thin  edge  of  something,  paper,  maybe, 
that's  smooth  as  silk,  but  that'll  cut  neat  and 
deep  if  you  let  it  —  'May  I  venture  to  remind 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  257 

you  that  your  aunt  is  announcing  our  engage 
ment  to-night  ?  I  think  that  will  have  escaped 
your  mind.' 

"'Yes/  Robin  says,  simple,  'it  had.  Every 
thing  had  escaped  my  mind  except  this  poor 
little  thing  here.  Alex  —  it's  early.  He'll  sleep 
after  a  little.  But  I  must  go  down  with  him. 
What  did  you  come  in  ?'  she  asked  Insley,  quiet. 

"I  told  her  I'd  go  down,  and  she  nodded  that 
I  was  to  go,  but  Chris  clung  to  her  hand  and  it 
was  her  that  he  wanted,  poor  little  soul,  and  only 
her.  Insley  had  come  up  in  the  doctor's  rig. 
She  and  I  would  join  him  with  the  child,  she 
told  him,  at  the  side  entrance  and  almost  at 
once.  There  was  voices  in  the  house  by  then, 
and  some  of  the  young  folks  was  coming  down 
stairs  and  up  from  the  tennis-court  for  tea. 
She  went  into  the  house  with  Chris.  And  I 
wondered  if  she  thought  of  the  thing  I  thought 
of  and  that  made  me  glad  and  glad  that  there 
are  such  men  in  the  world :  Not  once,  not  once, 
out  of  some  felt-he-must  courtesy,  had  Insley 
begged  her  not  to  go  with  him.  He  knew  that 
she  was  needed  down  there  with  Chris  and  him 
and  me  —  he  knew,  and  he  wouldn't  say  she 
wasn't.  Land,  land  I  love  a  man  that  don't 
talk  with  the  outside  of  his  head  and  let  what 
he  means  lay  cramped  somewheres  underneath, 


258  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

but  that  reaches  down  and  gets  up  what  he 
means,  and  holds  it  out,  for  you  to  take  or  to 
leave. 

"Mis'  Emmons  was  overseeing  the  decorations 
in  the  dining  room.  The  whole  evening  party 
she  had  got  right  over  onto  her  shoulders  the 
way  she  does  everything,  and  down  to  counting 
the  plates  she  was  seeing  to  it  all.  We  found 
her  and  told  her,  and  her  pity  went  to  the  poor 
fellow  down  there  at  the  Cadozas'  almost  before 
it  went  to  Chris. 

"'Go,  of  course,'  she  said.  'I  suppose  Alex 
minds,  but  leave  him  to  me.  I've  got  to  be  here 
—  but  it's  not  I  Chris  wants  in  any  case.  It's 
you.  Get  back  as  soon  as  you  can,  Robin.' 

"I  must  say  Alex  done  that  last  minute  right, 
the  way  he  done  everything,  light  and  glossy. 
When  Robin  come  down,  I  was  up  in  the  little 
seat  behind  the  doctor's  cart,  and  Alex  stood 
beside  and  helped  her.  A  servant,  he  said, 
would  come  on  after  us  in  the  automobile  with 
a  hamper,  and  would  wait  at  the  Cadozas' 
gate  until  she  was  ready  to  come  back.  Some 
how,  it  hadn't  entered  anybody's  head,  least 
of  all,  I  guess,  Alex's  own,  that  he  should  come, 
too.  He  see  us  off  with  his  manners  on  him 
like  a  thick,  thick  veil,  and  he  even  managed  to 
give  to  himself  a  real  dignity  so  that  Robin 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  259 

said  her  good-by  with  a  kind  of  wistfulness,  as 
if  she  wanted  to  be  reassured.  And  I  liked 
her  the  better  for  that.  For,  after  all,  she  was 
going  —  there  was  no  getting  back  of  that.  And 
when  a  woman  is  doing  the  right  thing  against 
somebody's  will,  I'm  not  the  one  to  mind  if 
she  hangs  little  bells  on  herself  instead  of  going 
off  with  no  tinkle  to  leave  herself  be  reminded 
of,  pleasant. 

"We  swung  out  onto  the  open  road,  with  Chris 
sitting  still  between  the  two  of  them,  and  me  on 
the  little  seat  behind.  The  sunset  was  flowing 
over  the  village  and  glittering  in  unfamiliar  fires 
on  the  windows.  The  time  was  as  still  as  still, 
in  that  hour  'long  towards  night  when  the  day 
seems  to  have  found  its  harbour  it  has  been  look 
ing  for  and  to  have  slipped  into  it,  with  shut 
sails  —  so  still  that  Robin  spoke  of  it  with  sur 
prise.  I  forget  just  what  she  said.  She  was 
one  of  them  women  that  can  say  a  thing  so  har 
monious  with  a  certain  minute  that  you  never 
wish  she'd  kept  still.  I  believe  if  she  spoke  to 
me  when  I  was  hearing  music  or  feeling  lifted 
up  all  by  myself,  I  wouldn't  mind  it.  What 
she'd  say  would  be  sure  to  fit  what  was  being. 
They  ain't  many  folks  in  anybody's  life  like 
that.  I  believe  she  could  talk  to  me  any  time, 
sole  unless  it's  when  I  first  wake  up  in  the  morn- 


260  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

ing;  then  any  talking  always  seems  like  some 
body  stumbling  in,  busy,  among  my  sleeping 
brains. 

"For  a  minute  Insley  didn't  say  anything.  I 
was  almost  sure  he  was  thinking  how  unbeliev 
able  it  was  that  he  should  be  there,  alone  with 
her,  where  an  hour  ago  not  even  one  of  his  for 
bidden  dreams  could  have  found  him. 

"'Beautifully  still,'  he  answered,  'as  if  all 
the  things  had  stopped  being,  except  some  great 
thing.' 

'"I  wonder,'  she  says,  absent,  'what  great 
thing.'  And  all  the  time  she  seemed  sort  of 
relaxed,  and  resting  in  the  sense  -  -  though 
never  in  the  consciousness  —  that  the  need  to 
talk  and  to  be  talked  to,  to  suggest  and  to  ques 
tion,  had  found  some  sort  of  quiet,  levelling  pro 
cess  with  which  she  was  moving  along,  assentin'. 

"Insley  stooped  down,  better  to  shield  her 
dress  from  the  mud  there  was.  I  see  him  look 
down  at  her  uncovered  hands  laying  on  the  robe, 
and  then,  with  a  kind  of  surprise,  up  at  her  face ; 
and  I  knew  how  surprising  her  being  near  him 
seemed. 

"'That  would  be  one  thing  for  you,'  he  an 
swered,  '  and  another  for  me.' 

" '  No,'  she  says, '  I  think  it's  the  same  thing  for 
us  both.' 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  261 

"He  didn't  let  himself  look  at  her,  but  his 
voice  —  well,  I  tell  you,  his  voice  looked. 

'"What  do  you  mean?'  he  says — just  said 
it  a  little  and  like  he  didn't  dare  trust  it  to  say 
itself  any  more. 

"'Why,  being  able  to  help  in  this,  surely,' 
she  says. 

"I  could  no  more  of  helped  watching  the  two 
of  them  than  if  they  had  been  angels  and  me 
nothing  but  me.  I  tried  once  or  twice  to  look 
off  across  the  fields  that  was  smiling  at  each 
other,  same  as  faces,  each  side  of  the  road ; 
but  my  eyes  come  back  like  they  was  folks 
and  wanted  to ;  and  I  set  there  looking  at  her 
brown  hair,  shining  in  the  sun,  without  any  hat 
on  it,  and  at  his  still  face  that  was  yet  so  many 
kinds  of  alive.  He  had  one  of  the  faces  that 
looked  like  it  had  been  cut  out  just  the  way  it 
was  a-purpose.  There  wasn't  any  unintentional 
assembling  of  features  there,  part  make-shift 
and  part  rank  growth  of  his  race.  No,  sir. 
His  face  had  come  to  life  by  being  meant  to  be 
just  the  way  it  was,  and  it  couldn't  have  been 
better.  ...  It  lit  up  wonderful  when  he 
answered. 

"'Yes,'  he  said,  'a  job  is  a  kind  of  creation. 
It's  next  best  to  getting  up  a  sunrise.  Look 
here,'  he  remembered,  late  in  the  day,  'you'll 


262  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

have  no  dinner.  You  can't  eat  with  them  in 
that  place.  And  you  ought  to  have  rest  before 
to-night.' 

"Ain't  it  funny  how  your  voice  gets  away 
from  you  sometimes  and  goes  dilly-nipping 
around,  pretty  near  saying  things  on  its  own 
account  ?  I  use'  to  think  that  mebbe  my  voice 
didn't  belong  to  the  me  I  know  about,  but  was 
some  of  the  real  me,  inside,  speaking  out  with 
my  mouth  for  a  trumpet.  I  donno  but  I  think 
so  yet.  For  sometimes  your  voice  is  a  person 
and  it  says  things  all  alone  by  itself.  So  his 
voice  done  then.  The  tender  concern  of  it 
was  pretty  near  a  second  set  of  words.  It  was 
the  first  time  he  had  struck  for  her  the  great 
and  simple  note,  the  note  of  the  caring  of  the 
man  for  the  physical  comfort  of  the  woman. 
And  while  she  was  pretending  not  to  need  it, 
he  turned  away  and  looked  off  toward  the  village, 
and  I  was  certain  sure  he  was  terrified  at  what 
might  have  been  in  his  voice. 

'"I  like  to  think  of  it  down  there,'  he  said, 
pretty  near  at  random,  'waiting  to  be  clothed 
in  a  new  meaning.' 

'"The  village  ?'  she  asked. 

"'Everywhere,'  he  answered.  'Some  of  the 
meanings  we  dress  things  up  in  are  so  —  dowdy. 
We  wouldn't  think  of  wearing  them  ourselves.' 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  263 

"She  understood  him  so  well  that  she  didn't 
have  to  bother  to  smile.  And  I  hoped  she 
was  setting  down  a  comparison  in  her  head : 
Between  clothing  the  world  in  a  new  meaning, 
and  wearing  it  for  a  garment. 

"Chris  looked  up  in  Insley's  face. 

'"I'm  new,'  he  contributes,  'I'm  new  on  the 
outside  of  me.  I've  got  on  this  new  brown 
middie.' 

'"I've  been  admiring  it  the  whole  way,'  says 
Insley,  hearty  —  and  that  time  his  eyes  and 
Robin's  met,  over  the  little  boy's  head,  as  we 
stopped  at  the  cottage  gate. 


XI 

"THE  lonesome  little  parlour  at  Mis'  Cadoza's 
was  so  far  past  knowing  how  to  act  with  folks 
in  it,  that  it  never  changed  expression  when  we 
threw  open  the  shutters.  Rooms  that  are 
used  to  folks  always  sort  of  look  up  when  the 
shutters  are  opened ;  some  rooms  smile  back 
at  you ;  some  say  something  that  you  just  lose, 
through  not  turning  round  from  the  window 
quite  quick  enough.  But  Mis'  Cadoza's  parlour 
was  such  a  poor  folkless  thing  that  it  didn't 
make  us  any  reply  at  all  nor  let  on  to  notice 
the  light.  It  just  set  there,  kind  of  numb, 
merely  enduring  itself. 

"'You  poor  thing,'  I  thought,  l nobody  come 
in  time,  did  they  ? ' 

"Insley  picked  out  a  cane-seat  rocker  that  had 
once  known  how  to  behave  in  company,  and 
drew  it  to  the  window.  Ain't  it  nice,  no  matter 
what  kind  of  a  dumb  room  you've  got  into, 
you  can  open  its  window  and  fit  the  sky  onto 
the  sill,  and  feel  right  at  home.  .  .  . 

"Robin  sat  there  with  Chris  in  her  arms, 
waiting  for  any  stir  in  the  front  bedroom.  I 
went  in  the  bedroom,  while  Dr.  Heron  told  me 

264 


MOTHERS  TO.  MEN  265 

about  the  medicine,  and  it  seemed  to  me  the  bare 
floor  and  bare  walls  and  dark-coloured  bed 
covers  was  got  together  to  suit  the  haggardy 
unshaven  face  on  the  pillow.  Christopher's 
father  never  moved.  I  set  in  the  doorway,  so 
as  to  watch  him,  and  Insley  went  with  the  doctor 
to  the  village  to  bring  back  some  things  that 
was  needed.  And  I  felt  like  we  was  all  the 
first  settlers  of  somewheres. 

"Chris  was  laying  so  still  in  Robin's  arms 
that  several  times  she  looked  down  to  see  if 
he  was  awake.  But  every  time  his  eyes  was 
wide  and  dark  with  that  mysterious  child  look 
that  seems  so  much  like  thought.  It  kind  of 
hurt  me  to  see  him  doing  nothing  —  that's  one 
of  the  parts  about  sickness  and  dying  and  some 
kinds  of  trouble  that  always  twists  something 
up  in  my  throat  :  The  folks  that  was  so  eager 
and  able  and  flying  round  the  house  just  being 
struck  still  and  not  able  to  go  on  with  everyday 
doings.  I  know  when  Lyddy  Ember,  the  dress 
maker,  died  and  I  looked  at  her  laying  there,  it 
seemed  to  me  so  surprising  that  she  couldn't 
hem  and  fell  and  cut  out  with  her  thumb  crooked 
like  she  done  —  and  that  she  didn't  know  a 
dart  from  a  gore ;  her  hands  looked  so  much 
like  she  knew  how  yet.  It's  like  being  inactive 
made  death  or  grief  double.  And  it's  like  work- 


266  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

ing  or  playing  around  was  a  kind  of  life.  .  .  . 
The  whole  house  seemed  inactive  and  silence- 
struck,  even  to  the  kitchen  where  Mis'  Cadoza 
and  the  little  lame  boy  was. 

"Robin  set  staring  into  the  lilacs  that  never 
seemed  to  bloom,  and  I  wondered  what  she  was 
thinking  and  mebbe  facing.  But  when  she 
spoke,  it  was  about  the  Cadoza  kitchen. 

"'Miss  Marsh,'  she  says,  'what  kind  of  people 
must  they  be  that  can  stay  alive  in  a  kitchen 
like  that  ? ' 

"'Pioneers,'  I  says.  'They's  a  lot  of  'em 
pioneerin'  away  and  not  knowing  it's  time  to 
stop.' 

'"But  the  dirt  -   '  she  says. 

'"What  do  you  expect  ?'  I  says.  'They're 
emergin'  out  of  dirt.  But  they  are  emergin'.' 

"'Don't  it  seem  hopeless  ?'  says  she. 

"'Oh,  I  donno,'  I  says  ;  'dirt  gets  to  be  apples 
—  so  be  you  plant  'em.' 

"But  the  Cadoza. kitchen  was  fearful.  When 
we  come  through  it,  Mis'  Cadoza  was  getting 
supper,  and  she'd  woke  up  nameless  smells  of 
greasy  things.  There  the  bare  table  was  piled 
with  the  inevitable  mix-up  of  unwashed  dishes 
that  go  along  with  the  Mis'  Cadozas  of  this 
world,  so  that  you  wonder  how  they  ever  got 
so  much  crockery  together.  There  the  floor 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  267 

wasn't  swept,  clothes  was  drying  on  a  line  over 
the  stove,  Spudge  was  eating  his  supper  on  the 
window-sill,  and  in  his  bed  in  the  corner  lay 
little  Eph,  so  white  and  frail  and  queer-coloured 
that  you  felt  you  was  looking  on  something 
bound  not  to  last  till  much  after  you'd  stopped 
looking.  And  there  was  Mis'  Cadoza.  When 
we  had  come  through  the  kitchen,  little  Eph 
had  said  something  glad  at  seeing  Insley  and 
hung  hold  of  his  hand  and  told  him  how  he 
meant  to  model  a  clay  Patsy,  because  it  was 
Patsy,  the  dog,  that  had  gone  out  in  the  dark 
and  first  brought  Insley  in  to  see  him. 

"'An'   when   I'm   big,'   the   child   says,    'I'm 
going  to  make  a  clay  you,  Mr.  Insley.' 

Mis'    Cadoza   had   turned   round   and   bared 
up  her  crooked  teeth. 

'"Don't   you    be    impident!'    she    had    said, 
raspish,  throwing  her  hand  out  angular. 

"Mis'  Cadoza  was  like  somebody  that  hadn't 
got  outside  into  the  daylight  of  Yet.  She  was 
ignorant,  blind  to  life,  with  some  little  bit  of  a 
corner  of  her  brain  working  while  the  rest  lay 
stock-still  in  her  skull ;  unclean  of  person,  the 
mother  to  no  end  of  nameless  horrors  of  habit— 
and  her  blood  and  the  blood  of  some  creature 
like  her  had  been  poured  into  that  poor  little 
boy,  sickly,  bloodless,  not  ready  for  the  struggle. 


268  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"'Is  there  any  use  trying  to  do  anything  with 
anybody  like  that  ?'  says  Robin. 

"'Is  there  ?'  says  I,  but  I  looked  right  straight 
at  Christopher.  If  there  wasn't  no  use  trying 
to  do  anything  with  little  Eph,  with  his  mother 
out  there  in  the  kitchen,  then  what  was  the 
use  of  trying  to  do  anything  with  Chris,  with 
his  father  here  in  the  front  bedroom  ?  Sick 
will,  tainted  blood,  ruined  body --to  what 
were  we  all  saving  Chris  ?  Maybe  to  misery 
and  final  defeat  and  some  awful  going  out. 

'"I  don't  know,'  she  says,  restless.  'Maybe 
Alex  is  right.  .  .  .' 

"She  looked  out  towards  the  lilac  bushes  again, 
and  I  knew  how  all  of  a  sudden  they  probably 
dissolved  away  to  be  the  fine  green  in  the  con 
servatory  at  Proudfit  House,  and  how  she  was 
seeing  herself  back  in  the  bright  room,  with  its 
summer  of  leaves,  and  before  the  tea  wagon, 
making  tea  for  Alex  lounging  in  his  low  chair, 
begging  her  not,  in  heaven's  name,  to  try  to 
teach  the  wise  old  world.  .  .  . 

" .  .  .  I  knew  well  enough  how  she  felt. 
Every  woman  in  the  world  knows.  In  that 
minute,  or  I  missed  my  guess,  she  was  finding 
herself  clinging  passionate  and  rebellious  to  the 
mere  ordered  quiet  of  the  life  Alex  would  make 
for  her ;  to  the  mere  outworn  routine,  the  leisure 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  269 

of  long  days  in  pretty  rooms,  of  guests  and 
house  parties  and  all  the  little  happy  flummery 
of  hospitality,  the  doing-nothingness,  or  the  nice 
tasks,  of  travelling ;  the  joy  of  sinking  down  quiet 
into  the  easy  ways  to  do  and  be.  Something 
of  the  sheer,  clear,  mere  self-indulgence  of  the 
last-notch  conservative  was  sweeping  over  her, 
the  quiet,  the  order,  the  plain  safety  of  the 
unchanging,  of  going  along  and  going  along  and 
leaving  things  pretty  much  as  they  are,  expecting 
them  to  work  themselves  out  .  .  .  the  lure  of 
all  keeping-stillness.  And  I  knew  she  was 
wondering,  like  women  do  when  they're  tired  or 
blue  or  get  a  big  job  to  do  or  see  a  house  like 
the  Cadozas',  why,  after  all,  she  shouldn't,  in 
Alex's  way,  make  herself  as  dainty  in  morals 
and  intellect  as  she  could  and  if  sh.e  wanted  to 
' meddle,'  to  do  so  at  arm's  length,  with  some 
of  the  material  that  is  cheap  and  abundant  — 
like  Chris.  .  .  . 

"'Maybe  there  isn't  any  use  trying  to  do 
anything  with  Chris,  either,'  I  says  brutal. 
'Mebbe  Nature's  way  is  best.  Mebbe  she 
knows  best  when  to  let  them  die  off.' 

"Robin's  arms  kind  of  shut  up  on  the  little 
kiddie.  He  looked  up. 

"'Did  you  squeeze  me  on  purpose?'  he 
whispered. 


270  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 


"She  nodded  at  him. 
"'What  for?'  he  asks. 


"'Just  loving,'  she  answered. 

"After  that,  we  sat  still  for  a  long  time. 
Insley  came  back  with  the  medicine,  and  told 
me  what  to  do  if  the  sick  man  came  to.  Then  he 
filled  and  lit  the  bracket  lamp  that  seemed  to 
make  more  shadows  than  light,  and  then  he 
stopped  beside  Robin  —  as  gentle  as  a  woman 
over  a  plant  —  and  asked  her  if  she  wanted  any 
thing.  He  come  through  the  room  several 
times,  and  once  him  and  her  smiled,  for  a  still 
greeting,  almost  as  children  do.  After  a  while 
he  come  with  a  little  basket  of  food  that  he  had 
had  Abagail  put  up  to  the  bakery,  and  we  tried 
to  eat  a  little  something,  all  of  us.  And  all  the 
while  the  man  on  the  bed  lay  like  he  was  locked 
up  in  some  new,  thick  kind  of  silence. 

"When  eight  o'clock  had  gone,  we  heard 
what  I  had  been  expecting  to  hear  —  the  first 
wheels  and  footsteps  on  the  Plank  Road  directed 
towards  Proudfit  House.  And  Insley  come  in, 
and  went  over  to  Robin,  and  found  Chris  asleep 
in  her  arms,  and  he  took  him  from  her  and  laid 
him  on  the  sagging  Brussels  couch. 

'"You  must  go  now,'  he  says  to  Robin,  with 
his  kind  of  still  authority  that  wan't  ordering 
nor  schoolmastery,  nor  you-do-as-I-say,  but  was 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  271 

just  something  that  made  you  want  to  mind 
him.  'I'll  wake  Chris  and  take  him  in  at  the 
least  change  —  but  you  must  go  back  at  once.' 

"And  of  course  I  was  going  to  stay.  Some 
of  my  minds  was  perfectly  willing  not  to  be  at 
the  party  in  any  case,  and  anyhow  the  rest  of 
them  wanted  to  stay  with  Chris. 

"Insley  picked  up  some  little  belongings  of 
hers,  seeming  to  know  them  without  being  told, 
and  because  the  time  was  so  queer,  and  mebbe 
because  death  was  in  the  next  room,  and  mebbe 
for  another  reason  or  two,  I  could  guess  how, 
all  the  while  he  was  answering  her  friendly 
questions  about  the  little  Cadoza  boy --all 
that  while  the  Personal,  the  Personal,  like  a 
living  thing,  hovered  just  beyond  his  words. 
And  at  last  it  just  naturally  came  in  and  pos 
sessed  what  he  was  saying. 

'"I  can't  thank  you  enough  for  coming  down 
here,'  he  says.  'It's  meant  everything  to  Chris 
—  and  to  me.' 

"She  glanced  up  at  him  with  her  pretty  near 
boyish  frankness,  that  had  in  it  that  night  some 
new  element  of  confidence  and  charm  and  just 
being  dear. 

'"Don't  thank  me,'  she  says,  'it  was  mine  to 
do,  too.  And  besides,  I  haven't  done  anything. 
And  I'm  running  away  !' 


272  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"He  looked  off  up  the  road  towards  where,  on 
its  hill,  Proudfit  House  was  a-setting,  a-glowing 
in  all  its  windows,  a-waiting  for  her  to  come,  and 
to  have  her  engagement  to  another  man  an 
nounced  in  it,  and  then  to  belong  up  there  for 
ever  and  ever.  He  started  to  say  something  — 
I  donno  whether  he  knew  what  or  whether  he 
didn't ;  but  anyhow  he  changed  his  mind  and 
just  opened  the  door  for  her,  the  parlour  door 
that  I  bet  was  as  surprised  to  be  used  as  if  it  had 
cackled. 

"The  Proudfit  motor  had  stood  waiting  at 
the  gate  all  this  while,  and  as  they  got  out  to 
it,  Dr.  Heron  drove  up,  and  with  him  was 
Mis'  Hubbelthwait  come  to  enquire.  So  Robin 
waited  outside  to  see  what  Dr.  Heron  should 
say  when  he  had  seen  Chris's  father  again, 
and  I  went  to  the  door  to  speak  to  Mis'  Hubbel 
thwait. 

"'Liquor's  what  ails  him  fast  enough,'  Mis' 
Hubbelthwait  whispers -- Mis'  Hubbelthwait 
would  of  whispered  in  the  middle  of  a  forty-acre 
field  if  somebody  had  said  either  birth  or  death 
to  her.  'Liquor's  what  ails  him.  I  know  'em. 
I  remember  the  nice,  well-behaved  gentleman 
that  come  to  the  hotel  and  only  lived  one  night 
after.  "Mr.  Elder,"  I  says  to  him,  severe,  "you 
needn't  to  tell  me  your  stomach  ain't  one  livin' 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  273 

pickle,  for  I  know  it  is  !"  An'  he  proved  it  by 
dyin'  that  very  night.  If  he  didn't  prove  it, 
I  don't  know  what  he  did  prove.  "Alcoholism," 
Dr.  Heron  called  it,  but  I  know  it  was  liquor 
killed  him.  No  use  dressin'  up  words.  An' 
I  miss  my  guess  if  this  here  poor  soul  ain't 
the  self-same  river  to  cross.' 

"She  would  have  come  in,  but  there's  no  call 
for  the  whole  town  to  nurse  a  sick-bed,  I  always 
think  —  and  so  she  sort  of  hung  around  a  minute, 
sympathetic  and  mum,  and  then  slimpsed  off 
with  very  little  starch  to  her  motions,  like  when 
you  walk  for  sick  folks.  I  looked  out  to  where 
Robin  and  Insley  was  waiting  by  the  big  Proud- 
fit  planet  that  was  going  to  take  her  on  an  orbit 
of  its  own ;  and  all  of  a  sudden,  with  them  in 
front  of  me  and  with  what  was  behind  me,  the 
awful  good-byness  of  things  sort  of  shut  down 
on  me,  and  I  wanted  to  do  something  or  tell 
somebody  something,  I  didn't  know  what, 
before  it  was  too  late ;  and  I  run  right  down  to 
them  two. 

"Oh,'  I  says,  scrabblin'  some  for  my  words, 
'I  want  to  tell  you  something,  both  of  you.  If 
it  means  anything  to  either  of  you  to  know  that 
there's  a  little  more  to  me,  for  having  met  both 
of  you  —  then  I  want  you  to  know  it.  And  it's 
true.  You  both  —  oh,  I  donno,'  I  says,  'what 


274  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

it  is  —  but  you  both  kind  of  act  like  life  was  a 
person,  and  like  it  wasn't  just  your  dinner  to 
be  et.  .  .  .  And  I  kind  of  know  the  person, 
too.  .  .  .' 

"I  knew  what  I  meant,  but  meant  things  and 
said  things  don't  often  match  close.  And  yet 
I  donno  but  they  understood  me.  Anyway, 
they  both  took  hold  of  a  hand  of  mine,  and  said 
some  little  broke-off  thing  that  I  didn't  rightly 
get.  But  I  guess  that  we  all  knew  that  we  all 
knew.  And  in  a  minute  I  went  back  in  the 
house,  feeling  like  I'd  got  the  best  of  some  time 
when  I  might  of  wished,  like  we  all  do,  that  I'd 
let  somebody  know  something  while  then  was 
then. 

"When  I  got  inside  the  door,  I  see  right  off  by 
Dr.  Heron's  face  that  there'd  been  some  change. 
And  sure  enough  there  was.  Chris's  father  had 
opened  his  eyes  and  had  spoke.  And  I  done 
what  I  knew  Robin  would  have  wanted ;  I 
wheeled  round  and  went  to  the  door  and  told 
her  so. 

'"He's  come  to,'  I  says,  'and  he's  just  asked 
for  Chris.' 

"Sharp  off,  Robin  turned  to  say  something  to 
the  man  waiting  in  the  automobile.  Insley 
tried  to  stop  her,  but  she  put  him  by.  They 
come  back  into  the  cottage  together,  and  the 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  275 

Proudfit  automobile  started  steaming  back  to 
Proudfit  House  without  her. 

"Once  again  Robin  roused  Chris,  as  she  had 
roused  him  on  the  night  when  he  slept  on  the 
church  porch  ;  she  just  slipped  her  hands  round 
his  throat  and  lifted  his  face,  and  this  time  she 
kissed  him. 

"'Come  with  Robin,'  she  said. 

"Chris  opened  his  eyes  and  for  a  minute  his 
little  senses  come  struggling  through  his  sleep, 
and  then  with  them  come  dread.  He  looked  up 
in  Robin's  face,  piteous. 

"'Did  my  daddy  go  out?'  he  asks,  shrill, 
'like  my  mama  did  ?' 

'"No,  no,  dear,'  Robin  said.  'He  wants  you 
to  say  good-by  to  him  first,  you  know.  Be 
still  and  brave,  for  Robin.' 

"There  wasn't  no  way  to  spare  him,  because 
the  poor  little  figure  on  the  bed  was  saying  his 
name,  restless,  to  restless  movements.  I  was 
in  there  by  him,  fixing  him  a  little  something 
to  take. 

"'Where's  Chris  ?'  the  sick  man  begged. 
'Look  on  the  church  steps  — ' 

"They  took  Chris  in  the  room,  and  Insley 
lifted  him  up  to  Robin's  knee  on  the  chair  beside 
the  bed. 

"'Hello  —  my    nice    daddy,'    Chris    says,    in 


276  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

his  little  high  voice,  and  smiles  adorable.     '  I  — 
I  —  I  was  waitin'  for  you  all  this  while.' 

"His  father  put  out  his  hand,  awful  awkward, 
and  took  the  child's  arm  about  the  elbow.  I'll 
never  forget  the  way  the  man's  face  looked.  It 
didn't  looked  used,  somehow --it  looked  all 
sort  of  bare  and  barren,  and  like  it  hadn't  been 
occupied.  I  remember  once  seeing  a  brand-new 
house  that  had  burned  down  before  anybody  had 
ever  lived  in  it,  and  some  of  it  stuck  up  in  the 
street,  nice  new  doors,  nice  hardwood  stairway, 
new  brick  chimney,  and  everything  else  all 
blackened  and  spoiled  and  done  for,  before  ever  it 
had  been  lived  in.  That  was  what  Chris's  father's 
face  made  me  think  of.  The  outline  was  young, 
and  the  eyes  was  young  —  young  and  burning  - 
but  there  was  the  man's  face,  all  spoiled  and 
done  for,  without  ever  having  been  used  for  a 
face  at  all. 

"'Hello,  sonny,'  he  says,  weak.  'Got  a  good 
home  ? ' 

'"He's  in  a  good  home,  with  good  people,  Mr. 
Bartlett,'  Insley  told  him. 

'"For  keeps  ?'  Chris's  father  asks,  his  eyes 
burning  at  Insley's  over  the  boy's  head. 

'"We  shall  look  after  him  somehow,  among 
us,'  Robin  says.  'Don't  worry  about  him,  Mr. 
Bartlett.  He's  all  right.' 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  277 

"The  father's  look  turned  toward  her  and  it 
sort  of  lingered  there  a  minute.  And  then  it 
lit  up  a  little  —  he  didn't  smile  or  change  ex 
pression,  but  his  look  lit  up  some. 

"'You're  the  kind  of  a  one  I  meant,'  he  says. 
'I  wanted  he  should  have  a  good  home.  I — I  done 
pretty  good  for  you,  didn't  I,  Chris  ?'  he  says. 

"Chris  leaned  way  over  and  pulled  at  his 
sleeve.  'You  —  you  —  you  come  in  our  house, 
too,'  he  says. 

"'No,  sonny,  no,'  says  the  man.  'I  guess 
mebbe  I'm  —  goin'  somewheres  else.  But  I 
done  well  by  you,  didn't  I  ?  Your  ma  and  I 
always  meant  you  should  hev  a  good  home.  I'm 
glad  --  if  you've  got  it.  It's  nicer  than  bein' 
with  me  —  ain't  it  ?  Ain't  it  ?' 

"Chris,  on  Robin's  knee,  was  leaning  forward 
on  the  bed,  his  hand  patting  and  pulling  at  his 
father's  hand. 

'"If  you  was  here,  then  it  is,'  the  child  says. 

"At  that  his  father  smiled  —  and  that  was 
the  first  real,  real  look  that  had  come  into  his 
face.  And  he  looked  around  slow  to  the  rest 
of  us. 

'"I  wasn't  never  the  kind  to  hev  a  kid,'  he 
says.     'The  drink  had  me  --  had  me  hard.     I 
knew  I'd  got  to  find  somebody  to  show  him  - 
about  growin'  up.     I'm  glad  you're  goin'  to.' 


278  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

"He  shut  his  eyes  and  Chris  threw  himself 
forward  and  patted  his  face. 

"'Daddy  !'  he  cried,  'I  wanted  to  tell  you  —  I 
had  that  hot  ice-cream  an' — an' — an'  tea  on  a 
litty  wagon.  .  .  .' 

"Robin  drew  him  back,  hushed  him,  looked 
up  questioning  to  Insley.  And  while  we  all 
set  there,  not  knowing  whether  to  leave  or  to 
stay,  the  man  opened  his  eyes,  wide  and  dark. 

" '  I  wish't  it  had  been  different,'  he  said.     ' Oh 

—  God.  .  .  : 

"Chris  leans  right  over,  eager,  towards  him. 

"'Didn't  he  say  anything  back  ?'  he  says. 

"'I  guess  so,'  the  man  says,  thick.  'I  guess 
if  you're  a  good  boy,  he  did.'  Then  he  turned 
his  head  and  looked  straight  at  Robin.  'Don't 
you  forget  about  his  throat,  will  you  ?'  he  says. 
'It  —  gets  —  sore  —  awful  —  easy.  .  .  .' 

"He  stopped  talking,  with  a  funny  upsetting 
sound  in  his  voice.  It  struck  me  then,  like  it 
has  since,  how  frightful  it  was  that  neither  him 
nor  Chris  thought  of  kissing  each  other  —  like 
neither  one  had  brought  the  other  up  to  know 
how.  And  yet  Chris  kissed  all  of  us  when  we 
asked  him -- just  like  something  away  back  in 
him  knew  how,  without  being  brought  up  to 
know. 

"He  knew  how  to  cry,   though,   without  no 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  279 

bringing  up,  like  folks  do.  As  Robin  come  with 
him  out  of  the  room,  Chris  hid  his  face  in  her 
skirts,  crying  miserable.  She  set  down  by  the 
window  with  him  in  her  arms,  and  Insley  went 
and  stood  side  of  them,  not  saying  anything. 
I  see  them  so,  while  Dr.  Heron  and  I  was  busy 
for  a  minute  in  the  bedroom.  Then  we  come 
out  and  shut  the  door  —  ain't  it  strange,  how  one 
minute  it  takes  so  many  people  around  the  bed, 
and  next  minute,  there's  the  one  that  was  the  one 
left  in  there  all  alone,  able  to  take  care  of  itself. 

"Dr.  Heron  went  away,  and  Robin  still  set 
there,  holding  Chris.  All  of  a  sudden  he  put  up 
his  face. 

"'Robin,'  he  says,  'did  —  did  my  daddy  leave 
me  a  letter  ?' 

"  'A  letter  ?'  she  repeated. 

"'To  tell  me  what  to  do,'  says  the  child. 
'Like  before.  On  the  church  steps.' 

"'No  —  why,  no,  Chris,'  she  answers  him. 
'He  didn't  have  to  do  that,  you  know.' 

"His  eyes  was  holding  hers,  like  he  wanted 
so  much  to  understand. 

'"Then  how'll  I  know  ?'  he  asks,  simple. 

"It  seemed  to  me  it  was  like  a  glass,  magnify 
ing  living,  had  suddenly  been  laid  on  life.  Here 
he  was,  in  the  world,  with  no  'letter'  to  tell  him 
what  to  do. 


280  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

"All  she  done  was  just  to  lay  her  cheek  right 
close  to  his  cheek. 

"'  Robin  is  going  to  tell  you  what  to  do/ 
she  says,  '  till  you  are  big  enough  to  know.' 

"  Insley  stood  there  looking  at  her,  and  his 
face  was  like  something  had  just  uncovered  it. 
And  the  minute  seemed  real  and  simple  and 
almost  old  —  as  if  it  had  begun  to  be  long,  long 
before.  It  was  kind  of  as  if  Robin's  will  was  the 
will  of  all  women,  away  back  for  ever  and  ever 
in  time,  to  pour  into  the  world  their  power  of 
life  and  of  spirit,  through  a  child. 

"Insley  went  out  in  the  kitchen  to  see  Mis' 
Cadoza  about  some  arrangements  —  if  'Ar 
rangements'  means  funerals,  it  always  seems  like 
the  word  was  spelt  different  and  stiffer  —  and  we 
was  setting  there  in  that  sudden,  awful  idleness 
that  comes  on  after,  when  there  was  the  noise  of  an 
automobile  on  the  Plank  Road,  and  it  stopped  to 
the  cottage  and  Alex  Proudfit  come  springing 
up  to  the  front  door.  He  pushed  it  open  and 
come  in  the  room,  and  he  seemed  to  put  the 
minute  in  capitals,  with  his  voice  and  his  looks 
and  his  clothes.  I  never  see  clothes  so  black 
and  so  white  and  so  just-so  as  Alex  Proudnt's 
could  be,  and  that  night  they  was  more  just- 
so  than  usual.  That  night,  his  hands,  with  their 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  281 

thick,  strange  ring,  and  his  dark,  kind  of  even 
face  was  like  some  fancy  picture  of  a  knight 
and  a  lover.  But  his  face  never  seemed  to  me  to 
be  made  very  much  a-purpose  and  just  for  him. 
It  was  rather  like  a  good  sample  of  a  good  brand, 
and  like  a  good  sample  of  any  other  good  brand 
would  have  done  him  just  as  well.  His  face 
didn't  fit  him  inevitable,  like  a  cork  to  a  bottle. 
It  was  laid  on  more  arbitrary,  like  a  window 
on  a  landscape,  and  you  could  have  seen  the 
landscape  through  any  other  window  just  as 
well,  or  better. 

"'Robin  !'  he  said,  'why  did  you  let  the  car 
come  back  without  you  ?  We've  been  frantic 
with  anxiety.' 

"She  told  him  in  a  word  or  two  what  had 
happened,  and  he  received  it  with  his  impressions 
just  about  half-and-half :  one-half  relief  that 
the  matter  was  well  over  and  one-half  anxiety 
for  her  to  hurry  up.  Everyone  was  at  the  house, 
everyone  was  wondering.  Mrs.  Emmons  was 
anxious.  .  .  .  'My  poor  Robin,  you've  over 
taxed  your  strength,'  he  ends.  'You'll  look 
worn  and  not  yourself  to-night.  It's  too  bad 
of  it.  Come,  for  heaven's  sake,  let's  be  out  of 
this.  Come,  Calliope.  .  .  .' 

He  asked  her  if  she  had  anything  to  bring,  and 
he  gathered  up  what  she  told  him  was  hers.  I 


282  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

got  ready,  too,  so's  to  go  up  to  Proudfit  House  to 
put  Chris  to  bed  and  set  by  him  awhile.  And 
just  as  I  was  going  out  to  let  Insley  know  we 
was  leaving,  the  door  to  the  other  room  opened 
and  there  stood  Mis'  Cadoza.  I  see  she'd  twisted 
her  hair  over  fresh  and  she'd  put  on  a  collar.  I 
remember  now  the  way  I  felt  when  she  spoke. 

"  '  I've  got  the  coffee  pot  on  and  some  batter 
stirred  up,'  says  she,  kind  of  shame-faced.  '  I 
thought  mebbe  some  hot  pan-cakes  and  some- 
thin'  hot  to  drink'd  go  good  —  with  Mr.  Insley 
an'  all  of  you.' 

"Alex  started  to  say  something-- heaven 
knows  what  —  but  Robin  went  right  straight  up 
to  Mis'  Cadoza  — •  and  afterwards  I  thought  back 
to  how  Robin  didn't  make  the  mistake  of  being 
too  grateful. 

" ' How  I'd  like  them  ! '  she  says,  matter-of-fact. 
'But  I've  got  a  lot  of  people  waiting  for  me,  and 
I  oughtn't  to  keep  them.  .  .  . ' 

"Insley  spoke  up  from  where  he  was  over  on 
the  edge  of  little  Eph's  bed,  and  I  noticed  Mis' 
Cadoza  had  tried  to  neaten  up  the  kitchen  some, 
and  she'd  set  the  table  with  oil-cloth  and  some 
clean  dishes. 

"'I  was  afraid  you'd  all  stay,'  he  says,  'and  I 
do  want  all  the  pan-cakes.  Hurry  on  —  you're 
keeping  back  our  supper.' 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  283 

"  He  nodded  to  Alex,  smiled  with  us,  and  come 
and  saw  us  out  the  door.  Mis'  Cadoza  come  too, 
and  Robin  and  I  shook  hands  with  her  for  good 
night.  And  as  Mis'  Cadoza  stood  there  in  her 
own  door,  seeing  us  off,  and  going  to  be  hostess 
out  in  her  own  kitchen,  I  wondered  to  myself  if  it 
was  having  a  collar  on,  or  what  it  was,  that  give 
her  a  kind  of  pretty  near  dignity. 

"  I  got  in  the  front  seat  of  the  car.  Chris  was 
back  in  the  tonneau  between  Robin  and  Alex, 
and  as  we  started  he  tried  to  tell  Alex  what  had 
happened. 

"'My  —  my  —  my  daddy '  he  says. 

"  '  Poor  little  cuss,'  says  Alex.  'But  how  ex 
tremely  well  for  the  child,  Robin,  that  the  beggar 
died.  Heavens,  how  I  hate  your  going  in  these 
ghastly  places.  My  poor  Robin,  what  an  expe 
rience  for  to-night !  For  our  to-night.  .  .  .' 

"She  made  a  sudden  move,  abrupt  as  a  bird 
springing  free  of  something  that's  holding  it. 
She  spoke  low,  but  I  heard  every  word  of  it. 

"'Alex,'  she  said,  'we've  made  a  mistake, 
you  and  I.  But  it  isn't  too  late  to  mend  it  now.' 


XII 

"'I  HOPE,  Calliope,'  said  Postmaster  Silas 
Sykes  to  me,  'that  you  ain't  in  favour  of  women 
suffrage.' 

'"No,  Silas,'  says  I,  'I  ain't.' 

"And  I  felt  all  over  me  a  kind  of  a  nice  wild 
joy  at  saying  a  thing  that  I  knew  a  male  creature 
would  approve  of. 

"Silas  was  delivering  the  groceries  himself 
that  day,  and  accepting  of  a  glass  of  milk  in  my 
kitchen  doorway.  And  on  my  kitchen  stoop 
Letty  Ames  —  that  had  come  home  in  time 
for  the  Proudfit  party  —  was  a-sitting,  a-stitch- 
ing  away  on  a  violet  muslin  breakfast-cap.  It 
was  the  next  day  after  the  party  and  my  regular 
wash-day  and  I  was  glad  to  be  back  in  my  own 
house,  washing  quiet,  with  Emerel  Daniel  to 
help  me. 

"'At  school,'  says  Letty,  'everybody  was  for 
it.' 

" '  I  know  it,'  says  Silas,  gloomy.  'The  schools 
is  goin'  to  the  dogs,  hot-foot.  Women  suffrage, 
tinkerin'  pupils'  teeth,  cremation  —  I  don't  know 

284 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  285 

what-all  their  holdin'  out  for.  In  my  day  they 
stuck  to  'rithmetic  and  toed  the  crack.' 

"  'That  isn't  up  to  date,  Mr.  Sykes,'  says  Letty, 
to  get  Silas  riled. 

"It  done  it.     He  waved  his  left  arm,  angular. 

"'Bein'  up  to  date  is  bein'  up  to  the  devil,' 
he  begun,  raspish,?when  I  cut  in,  hasty  and  peace 
ful. 

"'By  the  way,  Silas,'  I  says,  'speaking  of 
dates,  it  ain't  more'n  a  year  past  the  time  you 
aldermen  was  going  to  clear  out  Black  Hollow,  is 
it  ?  Ain't  you  going  to  get  it  done  this  spring  ? ' 

"'Oh,  dum  it,  no,'  Silas  says.  'They're  all 
after  us  now  to  get  to  pavin'  that  new  street.' 

'"That  street  off  there  in  the  marsh.  I  know 
they  are,'  I  says  innocent.  'Your  cousin's  makin' 
the  blocks,  ain't  he,  Silas  ?' 

"Just  then,  in  from  the  shed  where  she  was 
doing  my  washing  come  Emerel  Daniel  —  a 
poor  little  thing  that  looked  like  nothing  but 
breath  with  the  skin  drawn  over  it  —  and  she 
was  crying. 

'"Oh,  Miss  Marsh,'  she  says,  'I  guess  you'll 
have  to  leave  me  go  home.  I  left  little  Otie 
so  sick  —  I  hadn't  ought  to  of  left  him  —  only 
I  did  want  the  fifty  cents.  .  .  .' 

"'Otie  !'  I  says.  'I  thought  Otie  was  getting 
better. ' 


286  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"'I've  kept  sayin'  so  because  I  was  ashamed 
to  let  folks  know,'  Emerel  says,  'an'  me  leavin' 
him  to  work.  But  I  had  to  have  the  money  - 

"'Land,'  I  says,  'of  course  you  did.  Go  on 
home.  Silas'll  take  you  in  the  delivery  wagon, 
won't  you,  Silas  ?  You're  going  right  that  way, 
ain't  you  ?' 

'"I  wasn't,'  says  Silas,  'but  I  can  go  round 
that  way  to  oblige.'  That's  just  exactly  how 
Silas  is. 

"'Emerel,'  I  says,  'when  you  go  by  the 
Hollow,  you  tell  Silas  what  you  was  tellin' 
me --about  the  smells  from  there  into  your 
house.  Silas,'  I  says,  'that  hole  could  be  filled 
up  with  sand-bar  sand  dirt  cheap,  now  while 
the  river's  low,  and  you  know  it.' 

'"Woman-  •'  Silas  begins  excitable. 

'"Of  course  you  can't,'  I  saved  him  the 
trouble,  'not  while  the  council  is  running  pave 
ment  halfway  acrost  the  swamp  to  graft  off'n  the 
Wooden  Block  folks.  That's  all,  Silas.  I  know 
you,  head  and  heart,'  I  says,  some  direct. 

'"You  don't  understand  city  dealin's  no 
more'n —  Who-a  !'  Silas  yells,  pretending 
his  delivery  horse  needed  him,  and  lit  down  the 
walk,  Emerel  following.  Silas  reminds  me  of 
the  place  in  the  atmosphere  where  a  citizen 
ought  to  be,  and  ain't. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  287 

"Emerel  had  left  the  clothes  in  the  bluing 
water,  so  I  stood  and  talked  with  Letty  a  minute, 
stitching  away  on  her  muslin  breakfast-cap. 

"'I'd  be  for  women  voting  just  because  Silas 
isn't,'  she  says,  feminine. 

"'In  them  words,'  says  I  to  her,  'is  some  of 
why  women  shouldn't  do  it.  The  most  of  'em 
reason,'  I  says,  'like  rabbits  !' 

"Letty  sort  of  straightened  up  and  looked 
at  me,  gentle.  She  just  graduated  from  the 
Indian  Mound  School  and,  in  spite  of  yourself, 
you  notice  what  she  says.  'You're  mistaken, 
Miss  Marsh,'  says  she,  'I  believe  in  women  vot 
ing  because  we're  folks  and  mothers,  and  we 
can't  bring  up  our  children  with  men  taking 
things  away  from  'em  that  we  know  they'd 
ought  to  have.  I  want  to  bring  up  my  children 
by  my  votes  as  well  as  by  my  prayers,'  says  she. 

"'Your  children  !'  says  I. 

"  I  donno  if  you've  ever  noticed  that  look  come 
in  a  girl's  face  when  she  speaks  of  her  children 
that  are  going  to  be  sometime  ?  Up  to  that 
minute  I'd  'a'  thought  Letty's  words  was  brazen. 
But  when  I  see  how  she  looked  when  she  said 
it,  I  sort  of  turned  my  eyes  away,  kind  of  half 
reverent.  We  didn't  speak  so  when  I  was  a  girl. 
The  most  we  ever  heard  mentioned  like  that  was 
when  our  mothers  showed  us  our  first  baby  dress 


288  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

and  told  us  that  was  for  our  baby  —  and  then 
we  always  looked  away,  squeamish. 

"'That's  kind  of  nice,'  I  says,  slow,  'your 
owning  up,  out  loud  that  way,  that  maybe  you 
might  possibly  have  —  have  one,  sometime.' 

"'My  mother  has  talked  to  me  about  it  since  I 
began  to  know  —  everything,'  Letty  said. 

"That  struck  awful  near  home. 

'"I  always  wisht,'  I  says,  'I'd  talked  with 
my  mother  —  like  that.  I  always  wisht  I'd 
had  her  tell  me  about  the  night  I  was  born. 
I  think  everybody  ought  to  know  about  that. 
But  I  remember  when  she  begun  to  speak  about 
it,  I  always  kind  of  shied  off.  I  should  think 
it  would  of  hurt  her.  But  then,'  I  says,  'I 
never  had  any  of  my  own.  So  it  don't  matter.' 

'"Oh,  yes,  you  have,  Miss  Marsh,'  says  Letty. 

"I  looked  at  her,  blank. 

"'Every  child  that's  born  belongs  to  you,' 
says  Letty  to  me,  solemn. 

"'Go  on,'  says  I,  to  draw  her  out.  'I 
wouldn't  own  most  of  the  little  jackanapesses.' 

"'But  you  do?  says  Letty,  'and  so  do  I  !  So 
does  every  woman,  mother  or  not.' 

"  She  set  the  little  violet  muslin  cap  on  her  head 
to  try  it,  and  swept  up  and  made  me  a  little 
bow.  Pretty  as  a  picture  she  looked,  and  ready 
for  loving.  ...  I  always  wonder  if  things 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  289 

ain't  sometimes  arranged  to  happen  in  patterns, 
same  as  crystals.  For  why  else  should  it  be  that 
at  that  instant  minute  young  Elbert  Sykes, 
Silas's  son,  that  was  home  for  the  party  and  a 
little  longer,  come  up  to  my  door  with  a  note  from 
his  mother  —  and  see  Letty  in  the  violet  cap,  bow 
ing  like  a  rose  ? 

"While  they  was  a-talking  easy,  like  young 
folks  knows  how  to  do  nowdays,  I  read  the 
note ;  and  it  was  about  what  had  started  Silas 
to  talking  suffrage.  Mis'  Sykes  had  opened 
her  house  to  a  suffrage  meeting  that  evening, 
and  Mis'  Martin  Lacy  from  the  City  was  a-going 
to  talk,  and  would  I  go  over  ? 

'"Land,  yes,'  I  says  to  Elbert.  'Tell  her  I'll 
come,  just  for  something  to  do.  I  wonder  if  I 
can  bring  Letty,  too  ? ' 

"'Mother'd  be  proud,  I  know,'  says  Elbert, 
looking  at  her  like  words,  and  them  words  a-prais- 
ing.  They  had  used  to  play  together  when 
they  was  little,  but  school  had  come  in  and  kind 
of  made  them  over. 

"'So,'  says  he  to  Letty,  bantering,  'you're  in 
favour  of  women  voting,  are  you  ?' 

"  She  broke  off  her  thread  and  looked  up  at 
him. 

'"Of  course  I  am,'  she  says,  giving  a  cunning 
little  kitten  nod  that  run  all  down  her  shoulders. 


290  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"'So  you  think,'  says  Elbert,  'that  you're  just 
as  strong  as  I  am  —  to  carry  things  along  ? 
Mind  you,  I  don't  say  as  clever.  You're  easily 
that.  But  put  it  at  just  strong.'' 

"She  done  the  little  nod  again,  nicer  than  the 
first  time. 

"'You  talk  like  folks  voted  with  their  mus 
cles,'  says  she.  'Well,  I  guess  some  men  do, 
judging  by  the  results.' 

"He  laughed,  but  he  went  on. 

"'And  you  think,'  he  says,  'that  you  would  be 
just  as  wonderful  in  public  life  as  you  would  be 
in  your  home  —  your  very  own  home?' 

"Letty  put  the  last  stitch  in  her  muslin  cap 
and  she  set  it  on  her  head  —  all  cloudy  and  rose- 
budded,  and  land,  land,  she  was  lovely  when 
she  looked  up. 

"'Surely,'  she  says  from  under  the  ruffle, 
with  a  little  one-cornered  smile. 

"He  laughed  right  into  her  eyes.  'I  don't 
believe  you  think  so,'  he  says,  triumphant. 
And  all  of  a  sudden  there  come  a-sticking  up 
its  head  in  his  face  the  regular  man  look-- I 
can't  rightly  name  it,  but  every  woman  in  the 
world  knows  it  when  she  sees  it  —  a  kind  of  an 
I'm  the  one  of  us  two  but  don't  let's  stop  pretend 
ing  it's  you  look. 

"When  she  see  it,  what  do  you  suppose  Letty 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  291 

done  ?  First  she  looked  down.  Then  she 
blushed.  Then  she  shrugged  up  one  shoulder 
and  laughed,  sort  of  little  and  low  and  soft. 
And  she  kept  still.  She  was  about  as  much  like 
the  dignified  woman  that  had  just  been  talking 
to  me  about  women's  duty  as  a  bow  of  blue 
ribbon  is  like  my  work  apron.  And  as  plain 
as  the  blue  on  the  sky,  I  see  that  she  liked  the 
minute  when  she  let  Elbert  beat  her  —  liked  it, 
with  a  sort  of  a  glow  and  a  quiver. 

"He  laughed  again,  and,  'You  stay  just  the 
the  way  you  are,'  he  says,  and  he  contrived 
to  make  them  common  words  sort  of  flow  all  over 
her  like  petting. 

"That  evening,  when  we  marched  into  the 
Sykes's  house  to  the  meeting,  he  spoke  to  her 
like  that  again.  The  men  was  invited  to  the 
meeting,  too,  but  Mis'  Sykes  let  it  be  known 
that  they  needn't  to  come  till  the  coffee  and 
sandwiches,  thus  escaping  the  speech.  Mis' 
Sykes  ain't  in  favour  of  suffrage,  but.  she  does  love 
a  new  thing  in  town,  and  Mis'  Martin  Lacy 
was  so  well  dressed  and  so  soft-spoken  that 
Mis'  Sykes  would  of  left  her  preach  foot-binding 
in  her  parlour  if  she'd  wanted  to.  Mis'  Sykes 
is  like  that.  Letty  was  about  the  youngest 
there,  and  she  was  about  the  prettiest  I  'most 
ever  saw;  and  when  he'd  got  them  all  seated, 


292  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

young  Elbert  Sykes,  that  was  the  only  man  there, 
just  naturally  gravitated  over  and  set  down 
by  her,  like  the  Lord  meant.  I  love  to  see 
them  little  things  happen,  and  I  never  smile 
at  them,  same  as  some.  Because  it's  like  I  got 
a  peek  in  behind  the  curtain  and  see  the  eternal 
purpose  working  away,  quiet  and  still. 

"Well,  Mis'  Lacy,  she  talked,  and  she  put 
things  real  sane  and  plain,  barring  I  didn't  believe 
any  of  what  she  said.  And  pretty  soon  I 
stopped  trying  to  listen  and  I  begun  thinking 
about  Emerel  Daniel.  I'd  been  down  to  see 
her  just  before  supper,  and  I  hadn't  had 
her  out  of  my  head  much  of  the  time  since. 
Emerel's  cottage  wasn't  half  a  block  from 
Black  Hollow,  the  great  low  place  beyond  the 
river  road  that  the  town  used  as  a  dump.  It 
was  full  of  things  without  names,  and  take  it  on  a 
day  with  the  wind  just  right,  Emerel  had  to  keep 
her  window  shut  on  that  side  of  her  house. 
Water  was  standing  in  the  hollow  all  the  whole 
time.  Flies  and  mosquitoes  come  from  it  by 
the  flock  and  the  herd.  And  when  I'd  held  my 
nose  and  scud  past  it  that  afternoon  to  get  to 
Emerel's,  I'd  almost  run  into  Dr.  Heron,  just 
coming  out  from  seeing  Otie,  and  I  burst  right 
out  with  my  thoughts  all  over  him,  and  asked 
him  if  Black  Hollow  wasn't  what  was  the  matter 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  293 

with  Otie  and  if  it  wasn't  all  that  was  the  matter 
with  him. 

"'Unquestionably,'  says  Dr.  Heron.  'I  told 
Mrs.  Daniel  six  months  ago  that  she  must  move.' 

"'Well,'  says  I,  'not  having  any  of  her  other 
country  homes  open  this  year,  Emerel  had  to 
stay  where  she  was.  And  Otie  with  her.  But 
what  did  you  say  to  the  council  about  filling 
in  the  hole  ?' 

"'The  council,'  says  Dr.  Heron,  'is  paving 
the  county  swamp.  There's  a  good  crop  of 
wooden  blocks  this  year.' 

'"True  enough,'  says  I,  grim,  'and  Otie  is 
a-paying  for  it.' 

"That  was  exactly  how  the  matter  stood. 
And  all  the  while  Mis'  Lacy  was  a-talking  her 
women  suffrage,  I  set  there  grieving  for  Emerel, 
and  wondering  how  it  was  that  Silas  Sykes  and 
Timothy  Toplady  and  Jimmy  Sturgis  and  even 
Eppleby  Holcomb,  that  belonged  to  the  common 
council,  could  set  by  and  see  Otie  die,  and  more 
or  less  of  the  rest  of  us  in  the  same  kind  of  danger. 

"Next  I  knew,  Mis'  Lacy,  that  was  all  silky 
movements  and  a  sweet  voice,  had  got  through 
her  own  talk  and  was  asking  us  ladies  to  ex 
press  ourselves.  Everybody  felt  kind  of  deli 
cate  at  first,  and  then  Libby  Liberty  starts  up 
and  spoke  her  mind  :  — 


294  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

"'/  believe  all  you've  been  a-saying,'  she 
says,  'and  I  hev  for  twenty  years.  I  never  kill 
a  hen  without  I  realize  how  good  the  women  can 
do  a  human  being's  work  if  they're  put  to  it.' 

'"I  always  think  of  that,  too,'  says  Mis' 
Hubbelthwait,  quick,  '  about  the  hotel.  .  .  . ' 
She  kind  of  stopped,  but  we  all  knew  what  she 
meant.  Threat  is  seldom  if  ever  sober,  espe 
cially  on  election  day ;  but  he  votes,  and  she 
only  runs  the  hotel  and  keeps  them  both  out  of 
the  poorhouse. 

"'Well,  look  at  me,'  says  Abagail  Arnold, 
1  doin'  work  to  oven  and  to  counter,  an'  can't 
get  my  nose  near  nothin'  public  but  my  taxes.' 

'"Of  course,'  says  Mis'  Uppers,  rocking,  'I've 
almost  been  the  mayor  of  Friendship  Village, 
bein'  his  wife,  so.  An'  I  must  say  he  never  done 
a  thing  I  didn't  think  I  could  do.  Or  less  it  was 
the  junketin'  trips.  I'd  'a'  been  down  with  one 
o'  my  sick  headaches  on  every  one  o'  them.' 

"'Men  know  more,'  admitted  Mis'  Fire  Chief 
Merriman,  'but  I  donno  as  they  can  do  any 
more  than  us.  When  the  Fire  Chief  was  alive 
an'  holdin'  office  an'  entertaining  politicians,  I 
use'  often  to  think  o'  that,  when  I  had  their  hot 
dinner  to  get.' 

'"I  s'pose  men  do  know  more  than  we  do,' 
says  Mis'  Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss,  re- 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  295 

flective.  'I  know  Eppleby  is  lightnin'  at  figures, 
an'  he  can  tell  about  time-tables,  an'  he  sees 
sense  to  fine  print  parts  o'  the  newspapers  that 
looks  like  so  many  doctors'  prescriptions  to  me. 
An'  yet  honestly,  when  it  comes  to  some  ques 
tions  of  sense,  I've  known  Eppleby  not  to  have 
any.' 

"'Jimmy,  either,'  says  Mis'  Sturgis,  confi 
dential.  'I  donno.  I've  thought  about  that  a 
good  deal.  It  seems  as  if,  if  we  got  the  chance, 
us  women  might  not  vote  brilliant  at  first,  but 
we  would  vote  with  our  sense.  The  sense  that 
can  pick  out  a  pattern  and  split  a  receipt,  an' 
dress  the  children  out  o'  the  house  money.  I  bet 
there's  a  lot  o'  that  kind  o'  sense  among  women 
that  don't  get  used  up,  by  a  long  shot.' 

"Mis'  Timothy  Toplady  drew  her  shawl  up 
her  back,  like  she  does. 

"'Well-a,'  she  says,  'Timothy's  an  awful  good 
husband,  but  when  I  see  some  of  the  things  he 
buys  for  the  house,  an'  the  way  he  gets  took  in 
on  real  estate,  I  often  wonder  if  he's  such  a  good 
citizen  as  he  lets  on.' 

"I  kep'  a-wondering  why  Letty  didn't  say 
something,  and  by  and  by  I  nudged  her. 

"'Go  on,  speak  up,'  I  intimated. 

"And,  same  time,  I  heard  Elbert  Sykes,  on 
the  other  side,  say  something  to  her,  low.  'I 


296  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

could  tell  them,'  he  says  to  her,  'that  to  look 
like  you  do  is  better  than  being  elected  !' 

"And  Letty  —  what  do  you  s'spose  ? -- she 
just  glanced  up  at  him,  and  made  a  little  kind  of 
a  commenting  wrinkle  with  her  nose,  and  looked 
down  and  kept  her  silence.  Just  like  he'd  set 
there  with  a  little  fine  chain  to  her  wrist. 

"We  talked  some  more  and  asked  some 
questions  and  heard  Mis'  Lacy  read  some,  and 
then  it  was  time  for  the  men.  They  come  in 
together  —  six  or  eight  of  them,  and  most  of 
them,  as  it  happened,  members  of  the  common 
council.  And  when  Mis'  Sykes  had  set  them 
down  on  the  edge  of  the  room,  and  before  any 
body  had  thought  of  any  remark  to  pass,  Mis' 
Lacy  she  spoke  up  and  ask'  the  men  to  join  in 
the  discussion,  and  called  on  Mis'  Sykes,  that 
hadn't  said  nothing  yet,  to  start  the  ball  a-roll- 
ing. 

"'Well?  says  Mis'  Sykes,  with  her  little 
society  pucker,  'I  must  say  the  home  and  bring- 
up  my  children  seems  far,  far  more  womanly  to 
me  than  the  tobacco  smoke  and  whiskey  of  public 
life.' 

"  She  glanced  over  to  the  men,  kind  of  with  a 
way  of  arching  her  neck  and  they  all  gave  her  a 
sort  of  a  little  ripple,  approving.  And  with  this 
Mis'  Toplady  kind  of  tossed  her  head  up. 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  297 

"'Oh,  well,  I  don't  want  the  responsibility,' 
she  says.  'Land,  if  I  was  a  votin'  woman,  I 
should  feel  as  if  I'd  got  bread  in  the  pan  and 
cake  in  the  oven  and  clothes  in  the  bluin'  water 
all  the  whole  time.' 

'"He,  he,  he  !'  says  Timothy,  her  lawful  lord. 
And  Silas  and  Jimmy  Sturgis  and  the  rest  joined 
in,  tuneful. 

"Then  Mis'  Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss, 
she  vied  in,  and  done  a  small,  careless  laugh. 

'"Oh,  well,  me,  too,'  she  says,  'I  declare,  as  I 
get  older  an'  wake  up  some  mornin's  I  feel  like 
life  was  one  big  breakfast  to  get  an'  me  the  hired 
girl.  If  I  had  to  vote  besides,  I  donno  what  I 
would  do.' 

"'An','  says  Mis'  Hubbelthwait,  'I  always 
feel  as  if  a  politician  was  a  disgrace  to  be,  same 
as  an  actor,  unless  you  got  to  be  a  big  one.  An' 
can  us  women  ever  be  big  ones  even  if  we  want  ? 
Which  I'm  sure  I  don't  want,'  she  says,  sidling  a 
look  towards  the  men's  row. 

"'Oh,  not  only  that,'  says  Abagail  Arnold, 
'but  you'd  feel  so  kind  of  sheepish  votin'  for  the 
President,  away  off  there  in  Washington.  I 
always  feel  terrible  sheepish  even  prayin'  for  him, 
let  alone  votin'  —  an'  like  it  couldn't  make  no 
real  difference.' 

'"Oh,  an'  ladies!'  says  Mis'  Mayor  Uppers, 


298  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

'really  it's  bad  enough  to  have  been  the  wife  of 
a  mayor.  If  I  had  to  vote  an'  was  in  danger 
of  coming  down  with  a  nomination  for  some- 
thin'  myself,  I  couldn't  get  to  sleep  nights.' 

"'Mercy,'  said  Mis'  Fire  Chief  Merriman, 
'a  mayor  is  nothin'  but  a  baby  in  public  life 
compared  to  a  fire  chief.  A  mayor  gets  his 
night's  rest.  Could  a  woman  ever  chase  to  fires 
at  three  o'clock  in  the  mornin'  ?  An'  if  she 
votes,  what's  to  prevent  her  bein'  elected  to 
some  such  job  by  main  strength  ?' 

'"Or  like  enough  get  put  on  a  jury  settin'  on 
a  murderer,  an'  hev  to  look  at  dug-up  bones  an' 
orgins,'  says  Mis'  Sturgis--her  that's  an  in 
valid  and  gloomy  by  complexion. 

"And  one  and  all,  as  they  spoke,  they  looked 
sidewise  to  the  men  for  their  approval.  And 
they  got  it. 

'"That's  the  ticket !'  says  Timothy  Toplady, 
slapping  his  knee.  'I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  we've 
got  a  nice  set  of  women  folks  here  in  this  town. 
They  don't  prostitute  their  brains  to  no  fool 
notions.' 

"There  was  a  little  hush,  owing  to  that  word 
that  Timothy  had  used  kind  of  uncalled  for,  and 
then  a  little  quick  buzz  of  talk  to  try  to  cover  it. 
And  in  the  buzz  I  heard  Elbert  saying  to  Letty : 

"'You  know  you  think  of  yourself  in  a  home 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  299 

afterward  —  and  not  around  at  polls  and  things, 
Letty.' 

" '  You  don't  have  to  board  at  the  polls  because 
you  vote  there,  you  know,'  Letty  said ;  but  she 
says  it  with  a  way,  with  a  way.  She  said  it  like 
a  pretty  woman  talking  to  a  man  that's  looking  in 
her  eyes  and  thinking  how  pretty  she  is,  and  she 
knows  he's  thinking  so.  And  you  can't  never 
get  much  real  arguing  done  that  way. 

"It  always  kind  of  scares  me  to  see  myself 
showed  up  --  and  now  it  was  like  I  had  ripped 
a  veil  off  the  whole  sex,  and  off  me,  too.  I  see 
us  face  to  face.  Why  was  it  that  before  them 
men  had  come  in,  the  women  had  all  talked  kind 
of  doubtful  and  suffrage-leaning,  and  then  had 
veered  like  the  wind  the  minute  the  men  had 
come  on  the  scene  ?  Mis'  Toplady  had  defied 
Timothy  time  after  time,  both  public  and  pri 
vate  ;  Mis'  Hubbelthwait  bosses  her  husband 
not  only  drunk  but  sober ;  Mis'  Sturgis  don't  do 
a  thing  Jimmy  wants  without  she  happens  to 
want  it  too  —  and  so  on.  Yet  at  the  mention 
of  this  one  thing,  these  women  that  had  been 
talking  intelligent  and  wondering  open-minded 
had  all  stopped  being  the  way  they  was  and  had 
begun  to  say  things  sole  to  please  the  men.  Even 
Libby  Liberty  had  kept  still  —  her  that  has  a 
regular  tongue  in  her  head.  And  Letty,  that 


300  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

believed  in  it  all,  and  had  talked  to  me  so 
womanly  that  morning,  she  was  listening  and 
blushing  for  Elbert  and  holding  her  peace.  And 
then  I  remembered,  like  a  piece  of  guilt,  sensing 
that  nice,  wild  feeling  I  myself  had  felt  that 
morning  a-denying  woman  suffrage  in  the  pres 
ence  of  Postmaster  Silas  Sykes.  What  in  crea 
tion  ailed  us  all  ? 

"What  in  creation.  .  .  .  Them  words  sort 
of  steadied  me.  It  looked  to  me  like  it  was 
creation  itself  that  ailed  us  yet.  Creation  is  a 
thing  that  it  takes  most  folks  a  good  while  to 
recover  from.  .  .  . 

"...  I  remembered  seeing  Silas's  delivery  boy 
go  whistling  along  the  street  one  night,  and  pass 
a  cat.  The  cat  wasn't  doing  nothing  active.  It 
was  merely  idle.  But  the  boy  brought  up  a  big 
shingle  he  was  carrying  and  swished  it  through 
the  air  and  says  'Z-t-t-t-t,'  to  the  cat's  heels,  to 
see  the  cat  take  to  them  —  which  it  done  —  like 
the  cat  immemorial  has  done  for  immemorial 
boys,  delivery  and  other.  And  once,  at  dusk,  a 
big,  strange  man  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder 
passed  me  on  Daphne  Street,  and  when  he  done 
so,  he  says  to  me  'Z-t-t-t,'  under  his  breath, 
just  like  the  boy  to  the  cat,  and  just  like  the  un 
tamed  man  immemorial  has  said  when  he  got 
the  chance.  It  seemed  to  me  like  men  was 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  301 

created  with,  so  to  say,  a  shingle  and  a 
gun,  for  the  hunting,  and  just  as  there  is 
joy  in  their  hunting,  so  there  is  a  palpitatin' 
delight  in  being  hunted  and  flattered  by  being 
caught  and  bound,  hand  and  foot  and  mind. 

"'We  like  it  —  why,  I  tell  you,  we  like  it,'  I 
says  to  myself,  'and  us  here  in  Mis'  Sykes's 
parlour  are  burning  with  the  old  original,  left 
over  fire,  breathed  at  creation  into  women's 
breasts  !' 

"And  it  seemed  like  I  kind  of  touched  hands 
with  all  the  wornen  that  used  to  be.  And  I 
looked  over  to  that  row  of  grinning,  tired  men, 
not  so  very  much  dressed  up,  and  I  thought :  — 

" '  Why,  you're  the  men  of  this  world  and  we're 
the  women,  and  there  ain't  no  more  thrilling 
fact  in  this  universe.  And  why  don't  we  all  rec- 
o'nize  it  and  shut  up  ?' 

"That  was  what  I  was  thinking  over  in  my 
mind  while  Mis'  Martin  Lacy  said  good  night 
to  us  and  rushed  off  to  catch  her  train  for  the 
City,  hoping  she  had  made  us  see  some  light. 
That  was  what  I  was  still  going  over  when  Mis' 
Sykes  called  me  to  help  with  the  refreshments. 
And  then,  just  as  I  started  out  to  the  kitchen, 
the  outside  door  that  was  part  open  was  pushed 
in  and  somebody  come  in  the  room.  It  was 
Emerel  Daniel,  in  calico  and  no  hat.  And  as 


302  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

soon  as  we  see  her  face,  everybody  stopped 
talking  and  stared.  She  was  white  as  the  table 
cloth  and  shaking. 

"'Oh,  ladies,'  she  says,  'won't  one  of  you 
come  down  to  the  house  ?  Otie's  worse  -  -  I 
donno  what  it  is.  I  donno  what  to  do  to  take 
care  of  him.' 

"She  broke  down,  poor,  nervous  little  thing, 
and  sort  of  swallowed  her  whole  throat.  And 
Mis'  Toplady  and  we  all  rushed  right  over  to 
her. 

" '  Why,  Emerel,'  Mis'  Toplady  says, '  I  thought 
Otie  was  getting  ever  so  much  better.  Is  it  the 
the  real  typhoid,  do  you  s'pose  ?'  she  ask'  her. 

"Emerel  looked  over  to  me.  'Isn't  it?'  she 
says.  And  then  I  spoke  right  up  with  all  there 
is  to  me. 

'"Yes,  sir,'  I  says,  'it  is  the  real  typhoid. 
And  if  you  want  to  know  what's  giving  it  to 
him,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  ask  the  common 
council  that's  setting  over  there  by  the  wall. 
Dr.  Heron  says  that  Black  Hollow,  that's  a 
sink  for  the  whole  town,  give  it  to  him,  and  that 
nothing  else  did --piled  full  of  diseases  right  in 
back  of  Emerel's  house.  And  if  you  want  to 
know  who's  responsible  for  his  dying  if  he  dies,' 
I  says  right  out,  'look  over  in  the  same  direc 
tion  to  the  men  that  wouldn't  vote  to  fill  in  the 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  303 

Black  Hollow  with  sand  because  they  needed  the 
money  so  bad  for  paving  up  half  the  county 
swamp.' 

"It  was  most  as  still  in  the  room  as  when 
Timothy  had  said  '  prostitute.'  All  but  me.  I 
went  right  on  —  nothing  could  of  kept  me  still 
then. 

"'Us  ladies,'  I  says,  'has  tried  for  two  years 
to  get  the  Council  to  fill  in  that  hole.  We've  said 
and  said  what  would  happen  to  some  of  us,  what 
with  our  pumps  so  near  the  place,  and  what  with 
flies  from  it  visiting  our  dinner-table  dishes, 
sociable  and  continual.  What  did  you  say  to 
us  ?  You  said  women  hadn't  no  idee  of  town 
finances.  Mebbe  we  ain't  —  mebbe  we  ain't. 
But  we  have  got  some  idea  of  town  humanity, 
if  I  do  say  it,  that  share  in  it.  And  this  poor 
little  boy  has  gone  to  work  and  proved  it.' 

"With  that,  Emerel,  who  had  been  holding 
in  —  her  that's  afraid  even  to  ask  for  starch  if 
you  forget  to  give  it  to  her  —  she  broke  right 
down  and  leaned  her  head  on  her  arm  on  the 
clock  shelf:  — 

"'Oh,'  she  says,  'all  the  years  I  been  giving 
him  his  victuals  and  his  bath  and  sewing  his 
clothes  up,  I  never  meant  it  to  come  to  this  — 
for  no  reason.  If  Otie  dies,  I  guess  he  needn't 
of  —  that's  the  worst.  He  needn't  of.' 


304  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

"Mis'  Toplady  put  her  arm  right  around. 
Emerel  and  kind  of  poored  her  shoulder  in  that 
big,  mother  way  she's  got  —  and  it  was  her  that 
went  with  her,  like  it's  always  Mis'  Toplady 
that  does  everything.  And  us  ladies  turned 
around  and  all  begun  to  talk  at  once. 

"'Let's  plan  out  right  here  about  taking 
things  in  to  Emerel,'  says  Mis'  Holcomb-that- 
was-Mame-Bliss.  'I've  got  some  fresh  bread  out 
of  the  oven.  I'll  carry  her  a  couple  of  loaves, 
and  another  couple  next  baking  or  two.' 

"'I'll  take  her  in  a  hen,'  says  Libby  Liberty, 
'  so  be  she'll  kill  it  herself.' 

"Somebody  else  said  a  ham,  and  somebody 
some  butter,  and  Libby  threw  in  some  fresh  eggs, 
if  she  got  any.  Mis'  Hubbelthwait  didn't  have 
much  to  do  with,  but  she  said  she  would  take 
turns  setting  up  with  Otie.  Mis'  Sykes  give  a 
quarter  —  she  don't  like  to  bake  for  folks,  but 
she's  real  generous  with  money.  And  Silas 
pipes  in  :— 

"'Emerel  can  have  credit  to  the  store  till  Otie 
begins  to  get  better,'  he  said.  '  I  ain't  been  lettin' 
her  have  it.  She's  looked  so  peaked  I  been  afraid 
she  wan't  a-goin'  to  be  able  to  work,  an'  I  didn't 
want  she  should  be  all  stacked  up  with  debts.' 

"But  me,  I  set  there  a-thinking.  And  all  of 
a  sudden  I  says  out  what  I  thought :  '  Ladies,'  I 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  305 

says,  'and  all  of  you  :  What  to  Emerel  is  hens 
and  hams  and  credit  ?  They  ain't,'  I  says, 
1  nothing  but  patches  and  poultices  on  what's  the 
trouble  up  to  her  house.' 

"Eppleby  Holcomb,  that  hadn't  been  saying 
much,  spoke  up  :  — 

"'I  know,'  he  says,  'I  know.  You  mean  what 
good  do  they  do  to  the  boy.' 

" '  I  mean  just  that,'  I  says.  '  What  good  is  all 
that  to  Otie  that's  lying  over  by  Black  Hollow  ? 
And  how  does  it  keep  the  rest  of  the  town  safe  ?' 

"'Well,'  says  Silas,  eager,  'let's  us  get  out  the 
zinc  wagon  you  ladies  bought,  and  let's  us  go 
to  collectin'  the  garbage  again  so  that  won't  all 
be  dumped  in  Black  Hollow.  And  leave  the 
ladies  keep  on  payin'  for  it.  It's  real  ladies' 
work,  I  think,  bein'  as  it's  no  more'n  a  general 
scrapin'  up  of  ladies'  kitchens.' 

"Then  Letty  Ames,  that  hadn't  been  saying 
anything,  spoke  up,  to  nobody  in  particular:  — 

'"Otie's  a  dear  little  soul,'  she  said,  'a  dear 
little  soul  !' 

'"Ain't  he?'  says  Mame  Holcomb.  'Ep 
pleby  'most  always  has  a  nut  or  somethin'  in 
his  pocket  to  give  him  as  he  goes  by.  He  takes  it 
like  a  little  squirrel  an'  like  a  little  gentleman.' 
:'He's  awful  nice  when  he  comes  in  the  shop,' 
said  Abagail.  '  He  looks  at  the  penny-apiece  kind 


3o6  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

and  then  buys  the  two-for-a-cent,  so's  to  give 
his  mother  one.' 

"'He  knows  how  to  behave  in  a  store,'  Silas 
admitted.  'I  'most  always  give  him  a  coffee- 
berry,  just  to  see  him  thank  me.' 

"'He  come  into  the  hotel  one  day,'  says  Mis' 
Hubbelthwait,  'an'  stood  by  me  when  I  was 
bakin'.  I  give  him  a  little  wad  of  dough  to  roll.' 

"'I  let  him  drive  the  'bus  one  day,  settin'  on 
my  knee,'  says  Jimmy  Sturgis.  'He  was  a  nice, 
careful,  complete  little  cuss.' 

"Eppleby  Holcomb  nodded  with  his  eyes  shut. 

'"We  don't  like  folks  to  swing  on  our  front 
gate,'  he  says.  'He  done  it,  but  he  marched 
right  in  and  told  us  he'd  done  it.  I  give  him 
a  doughnut  —  an'  he's  kep'  right  on  swingin' 
an'  ownin'  up  an'  eatin'  doughnuts.' 

"'Even  when  he  chased  my  chickens,'  says 
Libby  Liberty,  'he  chased  'em  like  a  little  gentle 
man  —  towards  the  coop  an'  not  down  the  road. 
I  always  noticed  that  about  him.' 

"'Yes,'  says  Letty,  again,  'he's  a  dear  little 
soul.  What  makes  us  let  him  die?' 

"She  said  it  so  calm  that  it  caught  even  my 
breath  —  and  my  breath,  in  these  things,  ain't 
easy  caught.  But  I  got  it  right  back  again,  and 
I  says : — 

" '  Yes,   sir.     He   was    on   the  way   to  being 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  307 

somebody  that  Friendship  Village  could  have  had 
for  the  right  kind  of  an  inmate.  And  now  he'll 
be  nothing  but  a  grave,  that's  no  good  to  any 
body.;  And  Sodality,'  I  couldn't  help  adding, 
'will  likely  pitch  right  in  and  take  care  of  his 
grave,  tasteful.' 

"And  when  I  said  that,  it  come  over  me  how 
Emerel  had  dressed  him  and  bathed  him  and 
made  his  clothes,  and  done  washings,  tireless,  to 
get  the  fifty  cents  --  besides  bringing  him  into 
the  world,  tedious.  And  now  it  was  all  going 
for  nothing,  all  for  nothing — when  we  could 
of  helped  it.  And  I  plumped  out  with  what  I'd 
said  that  morning  to  Silas  :— 

"'Why  don't  you  fill  up  Black  Hollow  with 
sand-bar  sand  out  of  the  river,  now  it's  so  low  ? 
Then,  even  if  it's  too  late  for  Otie,  mebbe  we 
can  keep  ourselves  from  murderin'  anybody  else.' 

"Them  half  a  dozen  men  of  the  common 
council  set  still  a  minute,  looking  down  at  Mis' 
Sykes's  parlour  ingrain.  And  I  looked  over  at 
them,  and  my  heart  come  up  in  my  throat  and 
both  of  them  ached  like  the  toothache.  Be 
cause  all  of  a  sudden  it  seemed  to  me  it  wasn't 
just  Timothy  and  Eppleby  and  Silas  and  some 
more  of  the  council  setting  there  by  the  wall  - 
but  it  was  like,  in  them  few  men,  tired  and  not 
so  very  well  dressed,  was  setting  the  lawmakers 


308  MOTHERS   TO  MEN 

of  the  whole  world ;  and  there  in  front  of  them, 
wasn't  only  Mis'  Holcomb  and  Libby  and  Letty 
and  me,  but  Emerel  Daniel,  too,  and  all  the 
women  there  is  —  saying  to  them:  'My  land, 
we've  dressed  'em  an'  bathed  'em  an'  sewed  for 
'em  an'  brought  'em  into  the  world,  tedious.  Let 
'em  live  —  fix  things  so's  they  can  live  an'  so's 
it  needn't  all  go  for  nothin'.'  And  I  sort  of  bub 
bled  up  and  spilled  over,  as  if  everything  we  was 
all  of  us  for  had  come  up  in  my  throat. 

"'Oh,  folks,'  I  says,  'just  look  what  us  in  this 
room  could  have  done  for  Otie  —  so  be  we'd  be 
gun  in  time.' 

"Right  like  a  dash  of  cold  water  into  my 
face,  Mis'  Sykes  spoke  up,  cold  as  some  kind  of 
death : — 

" '  Well,  ladies,'  she  says,  '  I  guess  we've  got  our 
eyes  open  now.  /  say  that's  what  we'd  ought 
to  hev  been  doin'  instead  o'  talkin'  women 
votin', '  she  says,  triumphant. 

"Then  somebody  spoke  again,  in  a  soft,  new, 
not-used-to-it  little  voice,  and  in  her  chair  over 
beside  Elbert,  Letty  Ames  leaned  forward,  and 
her  eyes  was  like  the  sunny  places  in  water. 

" '  Don't  you  see,'  she  says, '  don't  you  see,  Mis' 
Sykes,  that's  what  Mis'  Lacy  meant  ?' 

"'How  so?'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  short. 

"I'll  never  forget  how  sweet  and  shy  and  un- 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  309 

expected  and  young  Letty  looked,  but  she  an 
swered,  as  brave  as  brave  :  — 

'"Otie  Daniel  is  sick,'  she  said,  'and  all  us 
women  can  do  is  to  carry  him  broth  and  bread 
and  nurse  him.  It's  only  the  men  that  can  bring 
about  the  things  to  make  him  well.  And  they 
haven't  done  it.  It's  been  the  women  who  have 
been  urging  it  —  and  not  getting  it  done. 
Wasn't  it  our  work  to  do,  too  ?' 

"I  see  Elbert  looking  at  her  —  like  he  just 
couldn't  bear  to  have  her  speak  so,  like  some 
men  can't.  And  I  guess  he  spoke  out  in  answer 
before  he  meant  to  :  — 

'"But  let  them  do  it  womanly,  Letty,'  he  said, 
'like  your  mother  did  and  my  mother  did.' 

"Letty  turned  and  looked  Elbert  Sykes 
straight  in  the  face  :  — 

"'Womanly! '  she  says.  'What  is  there 
womanly  about  my  bathing  and  feeding  a  child 
inside  four  clean  walls,  if  dirt  and  bad  food  and 
neglect  are  outside  for  him  ?  Will  you  tell  me 
if  there  is  anything  more  womanly  than  my 
right  to  help  make  the  world  as  decent  for  my 
children  as  I  would  make  my  own  home  ?' 

"I  looked  at  Letty,  and  looked;  and  I  see 
with  a  thrill  I  can't  tell  you  about  how  Letty 
seemed.  For  she  seemed  the  way  she  had  that 
morning  on  my  kitchen  stoop,  when  she  spoke 


310  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

of  her  children  and  when  I  felt  like  I'd  ought  to 
turn  away  —  the  way  I'd  used  to  when  my  mother 
showed  me  my  baby  dress  and  told  me  who  it 
would  be  for.  Only  now  —  only  now,  somehow, 
I  didn't  want  to  turn  away.  Somehow  I  wanted 
to  keep  right  on  looking  at  Letty,  like  Elbert  was 
looking.  And  I  see  what  he  see.  How  Letty 
was  what  she'd  said  that  morning  that  she  was  - 
and  that  I  was  —  and  that  we  all  was  :  A  mother, 
then  and  there,  whether  she  ever  had  any  children 
or  not.  And  she  was  next  door  to  owning  up  to 
it  right  there  before  them  all  and  before  Elbert. 
We  didn't  speak  so  when  I  was  a  girl.  We  didn't 
own  up,  out  loud,  that  we  ever  thought  anything 
about  what  we  was  for.  But  now,  when  I  heard 
Letty  do  it.  ... 

".  .  .  Now,  when  I  heard  Letty  do  it,  all  to 
once,  I  looked  into  a  window  of  the  world.  And 
instead  of  touching  hands  like  I  had  with  the 
women  that  use'  to  be,  I  looked  off  and  off  down 
all  the  time  there's  going  to  be,  and  for  a  minute 
I  touched,  tip-fingers,  the  hands  of  the  other 
women  that's  coming  towards  me ;  and  out  of 
places  inside  of  me  that  I  didn't  know  before  had 
eyes,  I  see  them,  mothers  to  the  whole  world, 
inside  their  four  walls  and  out.  And  they  wasn't 
coming  with  poultices  and  bread  and  broth  in 
their  hands,  to  patch  up  what  had  been  left 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  311 

undone  ;  nor  with  the  keys  to  schoolhouses  that 
they'd  got  open  by  scheming;  nor  with  news 
papers  full  of  health  that  they'd  had  to  run  down 
back  alleys  to  sell ;  nor  national  holidays  that 
they'd  got  a-hold  of  through  sheer  accident ; 
nor  yet  with  nice  new  headstones  for  cemetery 
improvements  on  the  dead  and  gone  --  no,  sir, 
their  hands  wasn't  occupied  with  any  of  these 
ways  of  serving  that  they'd  schemed  for  and 
stole.  But  their  hands  —  was  in  men's  hands, 
closer  and  nearer  than  they'd  ever  been  be 
fore.  And  their  eyes  was  lit  up  with  a  look 
that  was  a  new  look,  and  that  give  new  life  to 
the  old  original  left-over  blaze.  And  I  looked 
across  to  that  row  of  tired  men,  not  so  very 
much  dressed  up,  and  I  thought:  — 

'"You're  the  men  of  this  world  and  we're  the 
women.  And  there  ain't  no  more  thrilling  fact 
in  this  universe,  save  one,  save  one:  And  that's 
that  we're  all  human  beings.  That  your  job 
and  ours  is  to  make  the  world  ready  for  the  folks 
that  are  to  come,  and  to  make  the  folks  that 
come  fit  to  live  in  that  new  world.  And  yet  over 
there  by  Black  Hollow  one  of  our  children  is 
dying  from  something  that  was  your  job  and 
ours  to  do,  and  we  didn't  take  hold  of  hands 
and  do  it !' 

'"Oh,  Letty!'   I  says  out.     'And  Silas  and 


3i2  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

all  of  you  !  Let's  pretend,  just  for  a  minute, 
that  we  was  all  citizens  and  equal.  And  let's 
figure  out  things  for  Otie,  just  like  we  had  the 
right!' 

"I'd  asked  Letty  to  spend  the  night  with  me, 
and  Elbert  walked  home  with  us.  And  just  as 
we  got  there,  he  says  to  her  again  :  - 

"'Oh,  Letty --you  ain't  strong  enough  to 
help  carry  things  along!' 

"'You've  got  more  strength,'  she  says  to  him, 
'and  more  brains.  But  it  isn't  so  much  the 
strength  or  the  brains  in  women  that  is  going  to 
help  when  the  time  comes.  It's  the  —  mother 
in  them.' 

"And  I  says  to  myself  :  — 

"'And  it's  the  —  human  beingness  of  them.' 
But  Letty  didn't  know  that  yet. 

"Elbert  answered,  after  a  minute:  — 

'"You  may  be  right  and  you  may  be  wrong, 
but,  Letty,  Letty,  what  a  woman  you  are  ! ' 

"And  at  that  Letty  looked  up  at  him,  just  as 
she  had  looked  at  him  that  morning  --  just  for  a 
minute,  and  then  she  dipped  down  the  brim 
of  her  big  hat.  I  donno  what  she  answered 
him.  I  didn't  care.  I  didn't  care.  For  what 
I  see  was  the  old  wild  joy  of  a  woman  in  being 
glorified  by  a  male  creature.  And  I  knew  then, 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  313 

and  I  know  now,  that  that  won't  never  die, 
no  matter  what. 

"Elbert  put  out  his  hand. 

"'Good  night,  Letty,'  he  said. 

"She  gave  him  hers,  and  he  closed  over  it  light 
with  his  other  hand. 

"'May  I  see  you  to-morrow  ?'  he  asked  her. 

"'Oh,  I  don't  know,'  said  Letty.  'Come  and 
see  if  I'll  see  you  —  will  you  ?' 

"He  laughed  a  little,  looking  in  her  eyes. 

"'At  about  eight,'  he  promised.  'Good 
night.  .  .  .' 

"I  got  the  key  out  from  under  the  mat  to  a 
tune  inside  me.  Because  I'd  heard,  and  I 
knew  that  Letty  had  heard,  that  tone  in 
Elbert's  voice  that  is  the  human  tone  —  I  can't 
rightly  name  it,  but  every  woman  in  the  world 
knows  it  when  she  hears  it  —  a  tone  that  says : 
//  /  have  my  way,  you  and  I  are  going  to  live  out 
our  lives  together. 

"And  I  knew  then,  and  I  know  now,  that 
that  tone  won't  ever  die,  either.  And  some  day, 
away  off  in  a  new  world  right  here  on  this  earth, 
I  believe  there's  going  to  be  a  wilder  joy  in  being 
men  and  women  than  all  the  men  and  women 
up  to  now  have  ever  lived  or  dared  or  dreamed. 


XIII 

'"Miss  MARSH,'  says  Christopher. 

"Mis'  Emmons's  living-room  was  like  a  cup 
of  something  cool,  and  I  set  there  in  the  after- 
supper  light  having  such  a  nice  rested  time  drink 
ing  it  in  that  at  first  I  didn't  hear  him. 

"'Miss  Marsh,'  he  says  again,  and  pulled  at 
my  dress.  I  put  out  my  hand  to  him  and  he 
took  it.  Sometimes  I  donno  but  hands  are  a 
race  of  beings  by  themselves  that  talk  and  answer 
and  do  all  the  work  and  act  like  slaves  and  yet 
really  rule  the  world. 

"'Is  it  me  telling  my  feet  where  to  go  or  do 
they  tell  me  where  I  go  ?'  asked  Christopher. 

"'You  can  have  it  either  way  you  want,'  I 
told  him.  'Some  does  one  way  and  some  does 
the  other.  Which  way  do  you  like  ? ' 

"He  thought  for  a  minute,  twisting  on  one 
foot  with  the  other  up  in  his  hand. 

"'I'd  like  'em  to  know  how  without  our  sayin' 
so,'  he  announces  finally. 

"'Well,'  I  says,  'I  left  out  that  way.  That's 
really  the  best  way  of  all.' 

"He  looked  at  me  eager. 

314 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  315 

"'Is  it  a  game  ?'  he  says. 

"'Yes,'  I  told  him. 

"'What's  its  name  ?'  he  ask'  me. 

"'Game  of  Life,'  I  told  him  again. 

"He  thought  about  it,  still  twisting.  Then 
he  done  one  of  his  littlest  laughs,  with  his  head 
turned  away. 

"'My  feet  heard  you,'  he  says.  'Now  they 
know  how  to  play.' 

'"I  hope  so,  Christopher,'  says  I,  and  kissed 
him  on  the  back  of  his  neck.  That  made  him 
mad,  like  it  usually  done. 

"'My  neck  is  my  neck,'  says  he,  'and  it's  shut 
in  my  collar.  It  ain't  home  to-day.' 

'"Is  your  mouth  home  ? '  I  ask'  him. 

"And  it  was. 

"I  could  of  set  there  talking  with  him  all  even 
ing,  but  not  on  the  night  of  Sodality's  Annual. 
I'd  stopped  by  for  Mis'  Emmons.  She  was 
getting  ready,  and  while  I  waited  I  could  hear 
folks  passing  on  their  way  to  the  schoolhouse 
where  the  meeting  was.  For  the  town  was  all 
het  up  about  what  the  meeting  was  going  to  do. 

"I'd  seen  half-dozen  or  so  of  us  that  afternoon 
when  we  was  putting  plants  on  the  hall  platform, 
and  we'd  all  spoke  our  minds. 

'"I'm  gaspin','  observed  Mis'  Sturgis,  'to 
take  a  straw  vote  of  us  on  this  amendin'  busi- 


3i6  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

ness.  Near  as  I  can  make  out,  it's  going 
through.' 

"'Near  as  I  can  make  out/  says  Mame  Hoi- 
comb,  '  a  good  deal  more  than  amending  is  going 
on  here  to-night.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  Sodality 
was  just  going  to  get  into  its  own  Cemetery  and 
be  forgot,  and  as  if  something  else  was  coming 
to  meet  us  —  something  big  ! ' 

"Mis'  Toplady  spoke  up,  comfortable,  down 
on  her  knees  putting  green  paper  on  the  pots. 

"'Well,  my  land  !'  she  says,  ' I've  noticed  two- 
three  things  in  my  lifetime.  And  one  is,  that 
do  what  whoever  will,  things  do  change.  And 
so  whenever  a  new  change  pops  up,  I  always 
think:  "Oh,  I  guess  you're  comin'  along  any 
way.  I  donno's  I  need  to  help."  An'  yet  some- 
thin'  in  me  always  prances  to  pitch  in,  too.' 

"Timothy  was  there,  occupying  himself  with 
the  high  places  us  ladies  couldn't  get  up  to. 

"'Well,'  says  he,  'if  folks  stop  dying,  like 
Sodality  evidently  intends  they  shall  if  it  goes 
out  of  business,  maybe  you'll  stay  home  some, 
Amandy,  and  not  always  be  off  laying  folks 
out.' 

"'I  know  it,'  Mis'  Toplady  returns,  'I've 
laid  out  most  everybody  I  know,  and  of  course 
I'm  real  glad  to  do  it.  But  the  last  dead's 
hair  I  done  up,  I  caught  myself  thinking  how 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  317 

much  more  interesting  it'd  be  if  they  was  alive 
an'  could  find  fault.  Doin'  for  the  dead  gets 
kind  of  monotonous,  /  think.' 

"'/  don't,'  says  Timothy,  decided.  'The 
minute  you  work  for  the  living,  you  get  all 
upset  with  being  criticised.  I  s'pose  the  dead 
would  find  fault,  if  they  could,  over  the  way 
you  cut  the  grass  for  'em.  But  they  can't  an' 
so  there's  an  end  to  it,  an'  we  get  along,  peaceful. 
If  they  was  living  folks  layin'  there,  you  can  bet 
they'd  do  some  back  talk.' 

;'Well,'  says  I,  'I've  been  sick  of  Sodality  for 
years.  But  it  was  about  the  most  what-you- 
might-call  society  I  had,  and  I  hated  to  give 
it  up.' 

"Me,  either,'  says  Mame  Holcomb. 
"Me,  either,'  says  Mis'  Uppers.     'I  declare 
I've   often   said   I   wouldn't   know   what   to   do 
if  folks  stopped  dyin'  so's  Sodality  would  have 
to  close  out.' 

"Mis'  Sykes  was  setting  watching  the  rest 
of  us. 

:'Well,'  she  observes,  cold,  'if  I  was  usin'  the 
dead  to  keep  in  society,  I  donno's  I'd  own  it  up.' 

"Silas  Sykes  had  just  come  over  from  the 
store  to  see  if  there  was  anything  he  could  meddle 
in. 

"'Heh!'     says  he,   showing  his  teeth.   'Not 


318  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

many  of  Sodality,  as  I  can  see,  deserves  to  die 
and  be  done  for,  civilized.' 

"'  Don't  you  worry  yourself,  Silas  Sykes,' 
says  I,  t  we're  going  to  be  done  things  for  before 
we  die  hereafter,  and  more  civilized  than  ever 
you  dreamed  of,  all  up  and  down  your  ledger. 
That's  where  you  do  dream,  ain't  it,  Silas  ?'  I 
says.  And  though  I  said  it  gay,  I  meant  it 
frank. 

"  I  remember  I  looked  off  down  the  room,  and 
all  of  a  sudden  I  see  it  as  it  would  be  that  night, 
packed  with  folks.  Somehow,  we'd  got  to  saying 
less  about  the  Sodality  part  of  the  meeting,  and 
more  about  the  open  part.  Most  of  the  town 
would  be  there.  We'd  got  the  School  Board  to 
leave  us  announce  the  second  party  for  that 
night,  following  the  meeting,  and  music  was 
coming,  and  us  ladies  had  froze  the  ice-cream, 
and  the  whole  time  reminded  me  of  a  big  bud, 
flowered  slow  and  bursting  sudden. 

"'Land,  land,'  I  says,  fervent,  'I  feel  like 
Friendship  Village  was  a  person  that  I  was 
going  to  meet  to-night  for  the  first  time.' 

" '  You  express  yourself  so  odd  sometimes, 
Calliope,'  says  Mis'  Sykes,  distant  —  but  Mis' 
Toplady  and  Mis'  Holcomb-that-was-Mame- 
Bliss,  they  both  looked  up  and  nodded,  and 
they  knew. 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  319 

"I  set  holding  Christopher  in  Mis'  Emmons's 
living-room,  and  thinking  about  this  and  most 
everything  else,  when  I  looked  out  and  see 
Insley  going  along.  He  hadn't  been  back  in 
town  since  Christopher's  father's  funeral,  two 
days  before,  and  I'd  been  wanting  to  talk  over 
with  him  a  thing  or  two  that  was  likely  to  come 
up  at  the  meeting,  that  of  course  he  was  going  to 
be  at,  and  that  had  to  be  handled  with  thimbles 
on  every  finger,  or  somebody'd  get  pricked.  So 
I  rapped  smart  on  the  upper  sash  and  called  to 
him  through  the  screen,  but  not  before  I  had 
seen  the  look  on  his  face.  I've  caught  that 
special  look  only  once  or  twice  in  my  life  —  the 
look  of  somebody  passing  the  house  that  is  dif 
ferent  to  them  from  all  other  houses  in  the  world. 
The  look  that  wants  to  be  a  look  and  won't  let 
itself  be,  that  tries  to  turn  the  other  way  and 
can't  start,  that  thinks  it's  unconscious  and 
knows  it  isn't,  and  that  finally,  with  Insley, 
give  it  up  and  looked  Mis'  Emmons's  house 
straight  in  the  face  for  a  minute,  as  if  he  might 
anyhow  let  himself  have  that  much  intimacy. 

"I  had  a  little  list  of  things  I  wanted  to  see 
go  through  that  night.  Enough  of  us  was 
ready  to  have  Sodality  perform  its  last  cemetery 
rite  and  bury  itself  so  that  that  was  pretty 
sure  to  go  through,  but  I  wanted  more  than  that, 


320  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

and  several  of  us  ladies  did ;  and  it  looked  to  me 
like  the  schoolhouse  and  the  young  folks  and  the 
milk  and  the  meat  of  this  town  could  be  done 
nice  things  to,  so  be  we  managed  the  meeting 
right.  I  even  had  a  wild  dream  that  the  whole 
new  society  might  adopt  Christopher.  Well,  I 
donno  why  that's  funny.  It  ain't  funny  when 
a  club  makes  a  building  or  a  play  or  a  bazaar 
or  a  dinner.  Why  shouldn't  it  make  a  man  ? 

"I  told  some  of  this  to  Insley,  and  he  caught 
fire  and  lit  up  into  a  torch  and  had  it  all  thought 
out  beforehand,  better  than  I  could  of  dreamed 
it.  But  he  made  me  feel  bad.  Haunted  folks  — 
folks  haunted  by  something  that  was  and  that 
isn't  —  always  makes  me  feel  bad.  How  is  it 
possible,  I  see  he  was  asking  himself  the  old, 
wore-out  question,  to  drive  out  of  the  world 
something  that  is  the  world  ? 

"While  we  talked,  Christopher  went  off  to 
sleep  in  my  arms,  and  even  while  I  was  so  in 
terested,  I  was  enjoying  the  change  that  comes  — 
the  head  growing  heavier  and  heavier  on  my 
arm,  as  if  sleep  weighed  something. 

"'Poor  little  kiddie,'  I  says,  stupid. 

"'Rich  little  kiddie,'  Insley  says,  wistful. 

"'Dear  little  kiddie,'  says  somebody  else. 

"In  the  dining  room  doorway  Robin  stood  — 
in  a  doorway  as  we  had  first  seen  her. 


MOTHERS   TO  MEN  321 

'"Put  him  over  here  on  the  couch,  do/  she 
says.  'It's  much  too  hot  to  hold  him,  Calliope.' 

"She'd  called  me  that  at  Mr.  Bartlett's 
funeral,  and  I  recollect  how  my  throat  went  all 
over  me  when  she  done  so.  Ain't  it  funny  about 
your  own  first  name  ?  It  seems  so  you  when 
somebody  nice  says  it  for  the  first  time  —  more 
you  than  you  ever  knew  you  were. 

"Insley  lifted  Chris  in  his  arms  to  do  as  she 
said,  and  then  stood  staring  at  her  across  the 
child. 

"'I've  been  thinking,'  he  said,  blunt  —  it's 
like  watching  the  sign  of  folks  to  watch  the  dif 
ferent  kind  of  things  that  makes  them  blunt. 
'It's  not  my  affair,  but  do  you  think  you  ought 
to  let  Chris  get  so  —  so  used  to  you  ?  What 
will  he  do  when  you're  —  when  you  go  away  ?' 

"At  this  she  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  then 
she  smiled  up  at  him. 

"'I  meant  what  I  told  him  that  night  his 
father  died,'  she  answered.  'I'm  going  to  keep 
Chris  with  me,  always.' 

"'Always  ?'  He  stared  at  her,  saw  her  face 
mean  what  she  said.  'How  fine  of  you  !  How 
fine  of  Mr.  Proudfit ! '  said  Insley. 

"She  waited  just  a  breath,  then  she  met  his 
eyes,  brave. 

" '  Not  fine  of  me,'  she  says  — ' only  fine  for  me. 


322  MOTHERS  TO  MEN 

And  not  —  Mr.  Proudfit  at  all.  I  ought  to  take 
back  what  I  told  you  —  since  I  did  tell  you. 
That  is  not  going  to  be.' 

"I  don't  think  Insley  meant  for  a  minute  to 
show  any  lack  of  formal  respect  for  Christopher's 
sleep.  But  what  Insley  did  was  simply  to  turn 
and  sit  him  down,  bolt  upright,  on  my  lap. 
Then  he  wheeled  round,  trying  to  read  her  face. 

"'Do  you  mean  you  aren't  going  to  marry 
him  ?'  he  demanded,  rough  --  it's  like  watching 
another  sign  of  folks  to  watch  for  the  one  thing 
that  will  make  one  or  another  rough. 

"'We  are  not  going  to  be  married/  she  said. 
*I  mean  that.' 

"I  suppose  likely  the  room  went  away  alto 
gether  then,  Christopher  and  me  included,  and 
left  Insley  there  in  some  place  a  long  ways  from 
everywhere,  with  Robin's  face  looking  at  him. 
And  he  just  naturally  took  that  face  between 
his  hands. 

"'Robin,'  he  said,  'don't  make  me  wait  to 
know.' 

"Insley  was  the  suddenest  thing.  And  land, 
what  it  done  to  her  name  to  have  him  say  it. 
Just  for  a  minute  it  sounded  as  if  her  name 
was  the  population  of  the  world,  —  but  with 
room  for  everybody  else,  too. 

"I  think  she  put  up  her  hands  to  take  down 


MOTHERS  TO  MEN  323 

his  hands,  but  when  she  touched  them,  I  think 
hers  must  have  closed  over  his,  next  door  to  on 
purpose. 

"'Dear,'  she  says,  'tell  me  afterward.' 

"In  that  minute  of  stillness  in  which  any 
new  heaven  is  let  down  on  a  suitable  new  earth, 
a  little  voice  piped  up  :  — 

"'Tell  it  now,'  says  the  voice.  'Is  it  a  story  ? 
Tell  it  now.' 

"And  there  was  Christopher,  wide  awake 
where  he  had  been  set  down  rude  on  my  knee, 
and  looking  up  at  them,  patient. 

"I  was  dreamin'  my  dream,'  he  explained, 
polite.  'It  was  about  all  the  nice  things  there 
is  :  You  and  you  and  you  and  hot  ice-cream 
and  the  house's  party.  ...  Is  they  any  more  ?' 
he  asked,  anxious. 

"Robin  put  out  her  arms  for  him,  and  she 
and  Insley  and  I  smiled  at  one  another  over  his 
head. 

"Ever  so  many  more,'  we  told  him. 

"I  slipped  out  then  and  found  Mis'  Emmons, 
and  I  guess  I  come  as  near  shining  as  anything 
that's  like  me  can. 

''What's  the  matter  ?'  she  says  to  me.  'You 
look  as  if  you'd  turned  up  the  wick.' 

"'I  did.     They  have.     I  won't  tell,'  I  says. 


324  MOTHERS   TO   MEN 

'Oh,  Mis'  Emmons,  I  guess  the  meeting  to-night 
won't  need  to  adopt  Christopher.' 

"She  looked  up  at  me  quick,  and  then  she 
started  shining,  too. 

"'What  a  universe  it  is,'  she  says,  '  —  what  a 
universe  it  is.' 

"Then  we  went  off  down  to  the  meeting 
together.  And  the  village  was  wonderful  to  go 
through,  like  a  home  some  of  us  had  hollowed  out 
of  the  hills  and  was  living  in,  common.  As 
we  went  walking  to  the  schoolhouse,  the  side 
walks  seemed  to  me  no  more  than  ways  dick 
ered  up  to  fasten  us  together,  and  to  fasten  us  to 
them  whose  feet  had  wore  the  road  before  us,  and 
to  lead  us  to  them  that  was  coming,  coming  after : 
Christopher  and  Eph  and  Spudge  Cadoza  and 
Otie  Daniel,  or  them  like  these.  Otie  Daniel 
had  died  the  night  before.  Dr.  Barrows  had  said 
Eph  would  not  be  lame,  but  we  see  he  wan't 
sure  of  the  value  of  the  boy's  physical  life.  But 
even  so,  even  so  we  had  a  chance  with  Chris,  and 
we  had  a  chance  with  Spudge,  and  we  had  mill 
ions  more.  My  feet  wanted  to  run  along  them 
roads  to  meet  the  millions  and  my  fingers  tingled 
to  get  things  ready.  And  as  we  went  down 
Daphne  Street  to  that  meeting,  I  see  how  we 
all  was  getting  things  ready,  and  I  could  of  sung 
out  for  what  I  saw  :  — 


MOTHERS  TO   MEN  32$ 

"For  Mame  Holcomb,  sprinkling  clothes  on 
the  back  porch  and  hurrying  to  get  to  the  hall. 

"For  Mis'  Uppers,  picking  her  currants  be 
fore  she  went,  so's  to  get  an  early  start  on  her 
jam  in  the  morning. 

"For  Viny  Liberty,  setting  sponge  for  her 
bread  loud  enough  so  we  heard  her  clear  out 
in  the  street,  and  for  Libby,  shutting  up  her 
chicken  coop  that  they  earned  their  own  living 
with. 

"For  Mis'  Toplady,  driving  by  with  Timothy, 
and  her  in  the  brown  silk  she'd  made  herself, 
like  she's  made  all  she's  got. 

"For  Abagail  Arnold,  wiping  out  her  window 
to  be  filled  to-morrow  with  the  pies  of  her  hand. 

"For  little  Mis'  Sparks,  rocking  her  baby 
on  the  front  stoop  and  couldn't  come  to  the 
meeting  at  all,  'count  of  having  nobody  to  leave 
him  with. 

"For  them  that  had  left  cloth  bleaching  in 
their  side  yards  and  was  saving  the  price  of  buying 
bleached.  For  them  that  had  done  their  day's 
work,  from  parlour  to  wood-shed,  and  had  hurried 
up  the  supper  dishes  and  changed  their  dress 
and  was  on  their  way  to  the  schoolhouse.  For 
them  that  had  lived  lives  like  this  and  had  died 
at  it.  For  all  the  little  dog-eared,  wore-out 
account  books  where  every  one  of  them  women 


326  MOTHERS  TO   MEN 

figured  out  careful  what  they  couldn't  spend. 
And  I  looked  down  the  street  till  I  couldn't 
see  no  farther,  and  yet  Daphne  Street  was 
going  on,  round  and  round  the  world,  and  acrost 
and  acrost  it,  full  of  women  doing  the  same 
identical  way.  And  I  could  see  away  off  to  the 
places  that 'Daphne  Street  led  past,  where  women 
has  all  these  things  done  for  them  and  where 
the  factories  is  setting  them  free,  like  us  here 
in  the  village  ain't  free  just  yet,  and  I  felt  a 
wicked  envy  for  them  that  can  set  their  hands 
to  the  New  Work,  that  us  here  in  Friendship 
Village  is  trying  so  hard  to  get  in  between 
whiles.  And  I  could  see  away  ahead  to  times 
when  sponge  and  currants  and  clothes  and  coops 
and  similar  won't  have  to  be  mothered  by  women 
'most  as  much  as  children  are;  but  when  women, 
Away  Off  Then,  will  be  mothers  and  workers 
and  general  human  beings  such  as  yet  we  only 
know  how  to  think  about  being,  scrappy  and 
wishful.  But  all  the  time,  in  their  arms  and  in 
ours  and  nowheres  else,  lays  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  that  is  ever  going  to  be.  And  something 
in  me  kind  of  climbed  out  of  me  and  run  along 
ahead  and  looked  back  at  me  over  its  shoulder 
and  says:  'Keep  up,  keep  up,  Calliope.'  And 
before  I  knew  it,  right  out  loud,  I  says  :  'I  will. 
I  will.' 


MOTHERS   TO   MEN  327 

"An  hour  later,  up  in  the  schoolhouse,  Silas 
Sykes  stood  arguing,  to  the  top  of  his  tone,  that 
the  first  work  of  the  reorganized  society  —  that 
was  to  take  in  the  whole  town  —  had  ought  to 
be  to  buy  a  bargain  Cupid-and-fish  fountain  he 
knew  of,  for  the  market  square. 

"  'It's  going  to  take  years  and  years  to  do  — 
everything,'  says  Mis'  Emmons  to  me,  low. 

"But  that  didn't  seem  like  much  of  anything 
to  either  of  us.  'What  if  it  is,'  I  says.  And 
she  nodded." 


T 


HE  following  pages  contain  advertise 
ments  of  a  few  of  the  Macmillan  novels 


BY  ZONA  GALE 

"  One  of   the   most  widely  read  of  our 
writers  of  short  fiction." —  The  Bookman. 

The  Loves  of  Pel  leas  and  Etarre 

Decorated,  doth,  gilt  top,  I2mo,  $1.50 


What  Readers  Say 

"  A  most  delightful  story."  —  Literary  Digest  (New  York). 
"  It  is  good  to  get  a  book  of  this  sort."  —  Advertiser  (Boston). 

"An  ideal  book  for  the  holiday  trade." — Georgian  News 
(Atlanta). 

"A  dainty  story,  with  a  saving  salt  of  kindly  humor."  — 
Argonaut  (San  Francisco). 

"  Charm  of  style,  beauty  of  sentiment,  light  and  gracious 
humor." — Outlook  (New  York). 

"  An  ideal  book  for  husband  and  wife  to  read  aloud  together." 
—  Evening  Post  (Burlington). 

"  No  sweeter,  better  idealism  is  to  be  found  in  the  whole 
realm  of  literature."  —  Mail  and  Times  (Des  Moines). 

"  Nearer  being  something  entirely  new  than  any  book  we 
have  recently  had."  —  News  (Baltimore). 

"  The  book  will  be  a  pretty  gift,  alike  to  young  people  just 
announcing  an  engagement,  and  to  old  folks  celebrating 
a  golden  wedding." —  The  Churchman  (New  York). 


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BY  ZONA  GALE 

Friendship  Village  Love  Stories 

By  the  author  of  "  Friendship  Village." 

Cloth,  I2ino,  $1.50 

'"  Whatever  name  '  Friendship  Village  '  goes  by  on  the  map, 
for  many  of  us  it  is  quite  sufficiently  identified  by  its  resem 
blance  to  a  place  we  like  to  remember  under  the  name  of 
'Our  Home  Town.'  Its  cruder  outlines  a  little  softened, 
yet  not  completely  disguised,  the  faces  a  bit  idealized  but 
none  the  worse  likenesses  for  that  —  thus  and  in  no  other 
fashion  would  we  have  chosen  to  have  its  scenes  pictured." 

—  £ os ton  Transcript. 

Friendship  Village  Cloth,  12*10,  $1.50 

"  As  charming  as  an  April  day,  all  showers  and  sunshine, 
and  sometimes  both  together,  so  that  the  delighted  reader 
hardly  knows  whether  laughter  or  tears  are  fittest." —  The 
New  York  Times, 

"  A  charming  study  of  village  life  .  .  .  full  of  lifelike  char 
acter  portrayal,  of  quaint  and  humorous  philosophy,  and  of 
broad  and  loving  human  sympathy." —  The  Westminster. 

"  The  characters  are  well  drawn  and  the  incidents  hold  our 
attention  from  their  wholesome  simplicity.  The  style  is 
clear  and  vivid  and  the  humor  of  the  characterization  is 
infectious."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  '  Friendship  Village  '  as  a  whole  is  a  book  to  conjure  with, 
to  smile  and  sigh  over  happily,  to  tuck  up  on  the  personal 
bookshelf  where  stand  those  favorite  friends  we  never  mean 
to  part  with.  It  alternates  sunshine  and  flowers  like  an 
April  day,  and  is  as  wholesomely  sweet  and  sound  in  spirit." 

—  Chicago  Record-Herald. 


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BY  ZONA  GALE 

Friendship  Village  Love  Stories 

Decorated  doth,  gilt  top,  izmo,  $1.50 


Miss  Gale's  pleasant  and  highly  individual  outlook 
upon  life  has  never  been  revealed  to  better  advantage 
than  in  these  charming  stories  of  the  heart  affairs  of 
the  young  people  of  Friendship  Village.  Miss  Gale 
believes  that  literature  should  be  delightful.  The  sim 
ple,  homely,  village  life  she  sees  with  the  eye  of  the 
true  lover  of  romance  and  holds  it  up  for  us  to  see, 
its  reality  unimpaired  but  clad  in  that  beauty  of  hum 
bleness  which  is  not  always  appreciated  by  the  com 
mercial  world  of  to-day. 

Miss  Gale  has  been  singularly  successful  in  detach 
ing  herself  from  all  the  wear  and  tear  of  modern  life 
and  has  produced  a  collection  of  stories  filled  with 
sweetness,  beautiful  in  ideas,  charming  in  characteri 
zations,  highly  contemplative,  and  evidencing  a  philoso 
phy  all  her  own. 


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RECENT  MACMILLAN  NOVELS 


BY  HAMILTON  DRUMMOND 

The  Justice  of  the  King 

Cloth,  $1.20  net;  by  mail,  $1.32 

There  is  pain  in  it,  an  old  King's  bitter  suspicion  lest  his  son  be  not 
content  to  wait ;  there  is  cold  hate  and  hot  revenge  in  its  pages, — 
but  these  are  shadows  which  intensify  the  charm  of  tender  love- 
making  and  the  intense  loyalty  of  youth. 

BY  MRS.   HUBERT  BARCLAY 

TreVOr    Lordship  Cloth,  $1.20  net;  by  mail,  $1.32 

A  pleasant  novel  of  an  uncommon  kind  ;  its  love  problem  arises 
between  two  married  folk  ;  each  fears  that  the  other's  love  sleeps, 
and  each  dreads  to  move  lest  it  —  fail  to  awake.  The  social  setting 
of  the  story  is  particularly  enjoyable. 

BY  JOSEPHINE  DASKAM  BACON 

While  Caroline  was  Growing        cm,  $i.5o 

11  Caroline  "  needs  no  introduction  to  readers  of  "The  Biography  of  a 
Boy,"  etc.,  and  every  one  who  has  ever  come  into  contact  with  the 
mentality  of  a  growing  girl  will  find  in  the  story  a  deal  of  sympathetic 
entertainment. 

BY  GUSTAV  FRENSSEN 

Klaus  Hinrich  Baas  cioth,  $1,50 

THE  STORY  OF  A  SELF-MADE  MAN.  A  thoroughly  remarkable  novel 
is  this  story  of  the  rise  of  a  physically  strong,  proud  German  peasant. 
There  is  a  similarity  between  some  of  the  conditions  described  and 
those  existing  in  this  country  which  gives  the  book  a  peculiar  interest 
to  Americans.  In  many  ways  it  is  the  most  powerfully  interesting 
novel  of  the  spring  season. 


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NEW  MACMILLAN  NOVELS  OF  UNUSUAL  INTEREST 


MRS.   ROGER  A.   PRYOR'S  NEW  NOVEL 

The  Colonel's  Story 

Cloth,  $1.20  net;  by  mail,  $1.32 

For  those  who  have  a  tenderness  for  the  old  days  of  the  South,  or  who 
know  the  charm  of  Mrs.  Pryor's  books  of  personal  experience 
therein  —  "My  Day"  and  "Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War"  — 
this  book  has  an  unusual  charm. 

F.   MARION  CRAWFORD'S 

Wandering  Ghosts 

Cloth,  $1.25  net;  by  mail,  $1.35 

It  is  uncommonly  interesting  that  the  last  volume  to  be  added  to  the 
long  shelf  of  Mr.  Crawford's  novels  should  be  this  in  which  he  makes 
the  supernatural  so  vividly  felt. 

GUSTAV  FRENSSEN'S 

Klaus  Hinrich  Baas 

Cloth,  $1.50 

"  One  of  those  rare  novels  that  is  so  veracious,  so  packed  with  the 
veritable  stuff  of  life,  that  it  is  a  genuine  human  document  —  true,  but 
also  universal."  —  MILTON  BRONNER  in   The  Kentucky. 
"A  big,  strong,  life-size  portrait  of  a  real  man." — Chicago  Record- 
Herald. 

JACK  LONDON'S 

Adventure 

Cloth,  $1.50 

"  There's  a  real  sfory  Lo  °  Adventure,'  and  a  quite  unusually  good  love 
interest." —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"A  rapidly  shifting  panorama  of  exciting  incident." — Boston  Tran 
script. 

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IMPORTANT  RECENT  FICTION 


JAMES  LANE  ALLEN'S 

The  Doctor's  Christmas  Eve    cioth,i2mo,$i.5o 

"  Kentucky  in  its  rural  aspects  and  with  its  noble  men  and  women 
forms  the  scenery  for  this  romance  of  quaintness  and  homeliness 
which  lovingly  interprets  the  career  of  a  country  doctor  who  has  lost 
faith  in  life  but  not  in  ideals.  Incidentally  the  author  has  interpreted 
the  new  spirit  of  American  childhood  in  its  relation  to  the  miracles 
and  legends  and  lore  of  other  lands  and  older  times,  which  have 
through  the  centuries  gathered  about  the  great  Christmas  festival  of 
the  Nativity." — New  York  Times. 

"  What  so  many  have  so  long  hoped  Mr.  Allen  would  do  he  has 
accomplished  in  this  work,  namely  a  description  of  Kentucky  and 
the  blue-grass  farms  as  seen  by  a  youngster."  — New  York  American. 

MARY  S.   WATTS' 

Nathan  Burke  cioth,i2mo,$i.5o 

"  It  is  sometimes  said  that  one  of  the  best  tests  of  a  good  novel,  as  it 
is  of  a  well-planned  meal,  is  how  you  feel  at  the  end.  Are  you 
satisfied  or  do  you  wish  that  at  some  time  the  performance  may  be 
repeated  ?  When  one  is  through  with  '  Nathan  Burke  '  one  thinks, 
'  I'd  like  to  read  it  right  over  again.'  " — Columbus  Dispatch. 

WILLIAM  ALLEN  WHITE'S 

A  Certain  Rich  Man  cioth,i2mo,$i.5o 

"This  novel  has  a  message  for  to-day,  and  for  its  brilliant  character 
drawing,  and  that  gossipy  desultory  style  of  writing  that  stamps  Mr. 
White's  literary  work,  will  earn  a  high  place  in  fiction.  It  is  good 
and  clean  and  provides  a  vacation  from  the  cares  of  the  hour.  It 
resembles  a  Chinese  play,  because  it  begins  with  the  hero's  boyhood, 
describes  his  long,  busy  life,  and  ends  with  his  death.  Its  tone  is 
often  religious,  never  flippant,  and  one  of  its  best  assets  is  its 
glowing  descriptions  of  the  calm,  serene  beauties  of  nature.  Its 
moral  is  that  a  magnate  never  did  any  real  good  with  money."  — 
Oregonian,  Portland,  Oregon. 


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BOOKS  BY  MRS.  ROGER  A.  PRYOR 


The  Colonel's  Story 

Cloth,  ismo,  $1.20  net;  by  mail,  $1.32 

"  Full  of  that  fascinating  charm  inseparable  from  life  in  the  true  '  old 
South '  as  Mrs.  Pryor  reproduces  it  with  unrivalled  comprehension." 

The  Mother  of  Washington  and  Her  Times 

Cloth,  8w,  illustrated,  $2.50;  by  mail,  $2.72 

"  One  of  the  most  charming  books  of  the  season.  It  is  by  far  the 
most  accurate  and  lifelike  pen  portrait  of  this  noble  Colonial  Dame 
ever  published."  —  New  York  Times. 

The  Birth  of  the  Nation,  Jamestown,    1607 

Cloth,  8vo,  illustrated,  $1.75;  by  mail,  $1.88 

"No  better  book  could  be  found  to  give  a  lively  impression  of  the 
early  days  of  the  seventeenth  century." —  The  Outlook. 

My  Day :  Reminiscences  of  a  Long  Life 

Decorated  doth,  gilt  top,  8vo,  illustrated, 
boxed,  $2.25  net;  by  mail,  $2.43 

"  A  splendid  story  of  good  courage  and  fine  achievement.  Not  only 
is  it  a  valuable  contribution  to  the  annals  of  a  period,  but  it  is  an  in 
spiring  story  of  American  '  grit '  and  opportunity."  —  Albany  Argus. 

Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Cloth,  8vo,  illustrated,  $2.00;  by  mail,  $2.17 

"Mrs.  Pryor's  narrative  .  .  .  gives  a  wealth  of  information,  which  is 
essential  to  the  true  understanding  of  history,  and  in  a  shape  that 
must  charm  and  delight  the  reader." — Philadelphia  Public  Ledger 


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